For Good
by vixon l
Summary: "You see, lemon pie, once you steal something, you spend your whole life fighting to keep it." Lacing his fingers under her chin, Vanellope no longer had the luxury to glare at the floor. Instead, she was forced to take in his sneering features she'd sooner spit on. That is until he continued. "That's why we're going to do things legally."
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I'm not really sure why I'm posting this, or why I'm starting another story I'll probably never finish but here goes. I couldn't get it out of my head. Honestly, this has been niggling at me for the past month so I decided it's probably best to just get it out rather than let it fester in my brain any further.

I'm also aware I'll probably be getting a lot of back lash from this story from the Moral Police so just bear with me as I do this thing. But if you're curious, yes. This IS a Turbo/Vanellope story.

Yes, she will be "getting" older, or as it'll be called in this story "leveled up".

And as shocking as this may sound, this is actually going to be the cleanest PG13 rated story I've ever written. Heck, I'll even border on calling this a G rated story unless there's a few curse words thrown in the mix. So just for the record, if you have qualms about this then don't read it. Simple as that. Not that I'm going to be writing anything terrible up in here but YE BE WARNED!

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Prologue

How could this have happened?

The very question rattled in Vanellope's brain in quick recessions, her heart drumming hard in a vain attempt to keep up with her thoughts. She strained hard, scouring the land for answers, grasping feebly at the hope what lay before her was nothing more than an illusion conjured up by her exhausted mind. Yet try as she might telling herself this was impossible, inconceivable even! that nothing her eyes took in could possibly be real… the less reassured the tiny girl became. The world she once remembered seemed to be little more than a memory, distant and foggy, bleeding away into the darkness that now coiled about the landscape in thick tendrils. The bright hues from before were little more than diluted patch's of their former glory, fading off into the edges of their world and hardly distinguishable at all.

"How?" Vanellope nearly fell forward, her knees buckling under the heavy thoughts clouding her. This darkness bastardized everything it touched. The wayward whimsy and sugar coated delight now gone, replaced by this abomination!

Clutching at her mid section, the girl attempted to hold back the retching sensation best she could. Her throat convulsed, it taking every ounce of strength to hold back the acidic contents that wished to expel itself all over the rainbow fruit strip under foot. A quick chomp to her tongue prevented any of that mess, though it did not stop the constant question from gurgling up again, "How…?"

The word trembled forth, plucking along all the newly present company's thoughts. Their eyes, much like her own, continued to drink in their home with slackened jaws and stricken features, unable to formulate any sort of response. "How? How could this… how?" She repeated, curling even more into herself due to the pain slicing through her stomach. In just a meager few hours prior everything had been in its proper order. This much she recalled. Everything had been whole and wonderful. Everyone had been happy. Everything was as it should be!

Vanellope shook her head trying to clear it from the present reality. She wished so badly the images from Tamora and Felix's wedding could stay with her, especially now, for she wanted nothing more than to feel that warmth, love and security fill her chest again. But the memories descended into this nightmare place instead, filling her eyes with shadows and tears.

"We should… we should go back." Rancis shuffled a few steps towards the tunnel, glancing every once in a while behind him for assurance it was still there. His voice seemed to snap the group out of their stupor rather quickly, Candlehead gasping and sputtering, "Leave? B-b-b-but we cant just abandon the people below."

"Well we cant stay here either. Look at this place! Do YOU want to stick around and end up like…" his hand gestured wildly all over the place, "That?"

"But what about our game?"

"Forget the game. We need to think about US." The aghast looks he received caused his back to stiffen, "You heard me."

"Wow Rancis, you're a real piece of work." Taffyta clapped mockingly, "and when I say that, I mean a piece of shi-"

"Maybe he's right though. We should go back, for help that is." Minty Zaki gave a few hesitant side steps for the exit as well, stopped only when Gloyd practically screeched, "You liars! You're just running with your tails between your legs because you're a bunch of cowards."

"Guys." Vanellope lifted her head from her kingdom, refocusing herself on the group whose bickering only grew louder.

"I'm not a coward! I'm practical!"

"Guys. Listen to me."

"I say we find what ever did this and beat the cream filling out of em!"

"GUYS! SHUT YOUR GOBS AND LISTEN!" Vanellope wasn't aware how loud her voice had risen, nor that her body was glitching in quick succession. "We DO need to get help, but we also have to make sure the citizens are alright."

"But your presidency…" Of course Rancis would interject, but she merely held a hand up, silencing him and everyone else for that matter. "I'm going down there to scope it out. If you want to go back to tell the others, be my guest. But I'm going to get answers. Now."

Orangeboar slammed a fist into his palm, apparently liking that idea. "As for the rest of you yellow jelly bellies, you're welcomed to do what you like. Run away, hide, cry like a bunch of diaper babies… what ever. But if you really want to tag along..." Batting her eyes did little to faze the majority, their mouths beginning to open for what ever their response would be yet clamping shut when heavy boot falls rang in their ears.

Vanellope swiveled her attention down the rainbow path, breathing a sigh of relief when her oreo guards approached swiftly in twin rows. "Oh thank goodness it's you guys. I was worried that-" Her voice lodged in her throat when the guards did not slow their pace, nor did they pull up their spears. Instead, the lot quickly found themselves not only on the receiving end of those pointed edges, but also surrounded.

From behind, Vanellope witnessed three weapon totting cookies fall from their perch atop the exit, righting themselves in time to jab threateningly into any lingering racers chest.

"Wait… whats going on here? What are you-?" Vanellope's next question ended abruptly, she shooting back when her nose nearly kissed a swiping blade. Realization that these soldiers were not friendlys quickly dawned on her and the party, sending both hands to shoot up. "Hey, wait. Whooooa guys, it's me. Vanellope. President Von Schweetz. G-guys, come on. This isn't much of a welcome wagon."

"Silence prisoner!"

Well that's not reassuring.

Taking a hesitant step back, the guards packed the children into a tight little circle, closing in swiftly, "Stay were you are. All of you! Not one funny move," if the oreo had eyes, Vanellope knew where they'd be pointed, "Especially you, madam president."

She gave a fleeting glance behind her, jostled against her fellow racers who quickly buckled under the pressure. Their eyes were already dripping, especially Rancis, each fighting with themselves to hold back the whimpers and the increasing urge to flee down the tunnel if possible.

Vanellope even debated with herself on the matter, weighing the options back and forth. Her mind raced to find a solution, or anything the placate their attackers, yet the longer he stood there with the forces closing and the warm bodies pressing into her, the more she knew without a doubt there was nothing to do save surrender. Not without risking harm to herself or the others. "Alright." mounting a determined frown, she attempted to play diplomat, "You got us. So now what, cream puff? Cavity search's?"

In a blink Vanellope found her arms seized, apparently her once loyal guards planning on showing her their next move rather than speaking it. Not that she minded, though she bit out a few retorts for them to get their greasily mitts off her or else find them in places the artificial sun doesn't shine. But with all her struggling it served no purpose other than to drain her of energy, for their hold was strong and unforgiving as they corralled the group effortlessly, then frog marched them down the path. To where, Vanellope could only guess, snapping her teeth and glitching only slightly in their grasp. There really was no point in extending her abilities beyond angry fizzles at this point.

It didn't escape her that should she break loose those sharpened rock candy spears could be turned towards the racers throats, holding them hostage or even worse… executed. And with the way things were looking, she didn't want to chance the possibility this new environment may not allow them to respawn on the spot. For all she knew, the ground might fall through and swallow them up or hurl a barrage of flying hat toting gumballs at them.

So for now she focused on biting back the urge to flee, instead concentrating her energy on taking in her kingdom in all its disgusting horrors.

The others were either dragged or carried themselves, depending on the sobbing individual, with few whispers sent to them for reassurance. "Don't worry guys, I'm sure there's a reasonable-"

"No talking."

"… explanation for this." Vanellope bit her lip when the guard tightened his fingers, spinning what she assumed would be his head towards her. "I said BE SILENT!"

"No need to scream -OW! Stop man handling me you son of a Butterfinger." A swift kick in his cookie shin had the guard wrench her arm so hard she nearly screamed at the sudden jolts of pain. "Alright alright, I'll be quiet. Sheesh, just stop breaking my arm." He did, reluctantly, loosen his hold as the lot fell into step down the peanut brittle road, Vanellope now scanning the surrounding area for life; though having a sinking feeling there was none.

The plaza stood still and deserted, an unusual sight in itself, all lights inside the houses snuffed. Not a peep was heard, not a single movement other than ruffling of candy wrappers fluttering across the street.

Worry ate into her heart as she now numbly followed the guards led, fighting the urge to shout HELLO into the air. She half feared there would be nothing save her echoes to answer, instead concentrating on the direction they were now headed - and finding herself staring down the bridge to the dark chocolate castle she once called home.

So much of it had been altered, just like everything else, twisting spires warping its appearance beyond recognition and every feature ballooned out to twice its original size. Even the looming door expanded well beyond its average height and she, now fully aware she was being drawn to it, suddenly found her feet failing her; fumbling to keep up only to quickly dig their heels into the ground in order to renew her struggles. "Whoa whoa wait wait wait. Tell me what's going on here, please tell me? Someone answer me or so help me I'll… I'll… dunk you all in milk and… make you read bad poetry. Really bad poetry. Stuff Ralph is to ashamed to publish."

The yank on her arms kept any more threats at bay, for the pain mingled with a chocked sob just as they pulled her through the doors. The dreariness she knew outside quickly became overshadowed by that found within, the children huddled even closer to their captors from the sheer fear of what lurked within these walls. "Dios mio , we're going to die." Crumbelina breathed, receiving several nods.

Vanellope glanced from side to side, fretting her lip. She refused to acknowledge that statement just yet, narrowing her sights on a door leading to none other then the thrown room. A questioning look towards the guard did little good, especially when he peeled away from her in order to work the doors. "Sire, we have brought the prisoners… as you instructed."

She attempted to crane her neck just so, straining to see over the back and through the crack at this so called "sire", wondering what she would be up against. She stood almost 99% sure who ever this person was held the key to the reasons behind her games gross mutation, readying herself for the confrontation soon to ensue.

The voice that answered shot those numbers to 110 when it -or he- lisped a response.

Her code exploded into various blue 1's and 0's, draining her face completely as the feeling in her legs suddenly went out from just one, simple word.

"Exthellent."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I'm so happy to hear this story isn't black listed. I cant tell you enough how much those reviews mean to me because I really was concerned this might not be something anyone would ever hope to read, let along enjoy. So thank you all for your kind words of encouragement. Enjoy the next chapter.

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Chapter 1

With widening eyes, Vanellope's struggle began anew. Her complexion, once paled of all color, now flushed profusely as she snapped her full attention towards the guard. There seemed to be no sympathy on his part, nor any regret as his hold didn't lesson in the slightest. In fact, it grew even more bruising when the newly turned spit fire rounded all her efforts into breaking it. "NO! Get your mitts off me, ya big galoot! Do you hear me? I said get! OFF!"

It took a great deal to restrain his charge, her rubbery limbs flailing uselessly in his hold, her little legs doing high kicks to certain parts of his anatomy, and the insults… such a colorful vocabulary for a tiny little girl. It would almost be comical, one had to admit, if the circumstances weren't so dire.

The door grew ever closer the further the oreo pushed and her heels dug all the deeper into the ground to prevent it. There was no way she would go in there willingly! Not when she knew what awaited her on the other side. Just the thought had her code shuttering from the inside out, screaming at the top of her lungs and shedding pleading looks to the cookies who held no sympathy for her plight. If anything they grew more annoyed, lifting her clear off the ground to give a one-two toss into her fate.

She careened head first through the opening, feet dancing in the air only to spill out completely from under her when hitting solid ground. And with a resounding crack, her face slammed against the purple skittle tiles, she being pretty sure the impact alone knocked a few gum balls loose in her brain - and smashing her nose flat.

"That's not…Ow… what I had in mind, guys." Slowly but surely the girl pushed to her knee's, covering her face with both hands and flinching for every time her fingers grazed over a tender area. Nothing appeared to be broken, or bleeding for that matter, which she supposed wasn't half bad for what could've happened. Thank God for small miracles.

Wiggling her nose, she stood unsteadily on knees that didn't feel like supporting themselves. In fact, the longer she stood there, evaluating herself, the more she felt the trickles of fear seeping further into her. Her thoughts tailed themselves in repetitive motions, asking the obvious of how and why. How did he survive being the top and why was he still here? Would not altering her game be the tale tall sign of his return?

Her questions were quickly silenced, for the doors creaky hinges pierced her mind, as did its sudden but inevitable slam, causing her to not only jump but also squeak with realization that she was, in fact, very much trapped. And alone. With him.

Vanellope whipped her head so violently around she nearly gave herself whiplash, knowing very well that trying the knob would do nothing for her, the click from the outside made it abundantly clear she wasn't going anywhere soon.

Grasping at her dress front, her pixels shuttered yet again as she set about searching for that fart brained puke face other wise known as Turbo. She fretted her lip, taking a hesitant step to peek further down the long dark strip leading to the throne. Details became obscured, lost between the tiny opalescent gum drops hanging from their scones. Her eyes sought deeper into the dimly lit chamber, squinting to behold a living person some where in its vastness. Yet despite it all, not a soul stirred save for herself.

For a moment she began to believe there was no one else. Perhaps a detached voice spewed back from the pit of nothingness all gameless individuals returned to. For a brief moment more she sighed in relief, half believing in her childish way there was nothing here at all. That is… until a distinct clicking sound suddenly caught in her ears, sending her heart to rocket into her throat once again.

Her head quickly snapped all around, almost aimlessly it seemed, trying to pinpoint exactly where it had emitted from. Instead, shrinking closer towards the doors, she drank in the little details surrounding her. Adrenaline heightened her senses substantially to the point every little nook, every questionable patch of darkness, grew in finer quality. From the grotesque statues lifted up pillar like to the chandeliers twinkling uselessly from the ceiling, she absorbed it all, wetting her lips now as realization slithered along her mind.

Scrunching her face, she peered further up until clasping a hand over her mouth. Those were… the chandelier was made of… "Sucker sticks." The kind that resembled some of the sentient candy people.

With out their heads!

Vanellope gulped, pressing her body so hard against the doors she nearly became one with it. The fear lacing through her was something she could no longer mask, this made apparent when the noises from before grew in speed and clarity. "I… I-I know you're in here." focusing on a particular pillar, her tongue floundered in attempts to solidify her words, "And… um… I'm n-not really very scared right now, just so you know." Be brave be brave be brave.

"Oh you aren't?" His echoes resonated all around, quickening her intake dramatically, "I sth'pose I'll have to try harder than." A shadow darted towards her left, then right, fluttering a few lone candy wrappers across the floor.

"Uh, no. That's ok. I mean, you don't have to go through all the trouble for little ole me." She leaned as far back as humanly possible, slamming her hands in her dress folds to display an air of confidence she did not possess. Or more importantly, to hide her shaking hands from sight "So I guess you wanted to see me. Well here I am, hehe. But ya see you've caught me at a really awkward moment and," Stretching her arms above her head to yawn, "Would you look at that. It's waaaaaay past my bed time so, uh, if you could come back, oh I don't know, tomorrow maybe… or never. That'd be great."

"Why that sthounds delightful." It didn't take a genius to catch the fake sugar coating in his tone, forcing the girl's awkward smile to drip further, "But I'm afraid I'll have to decline. You see, we have unfinished business, you and I." Before Vanellope could conjure a remark, she soon found her neck pressed by something cold, sharp and biting.

With a start her hands flew to the object, horrified even more when it didn't budge from its position. It only increased in pressure and, with an effortless tug, brought her clear off the ground. Her feet beat wildly against the wall, digging her nails into the impenetrable surface as inch by agonizing inch she came closer to the thing now breathing its sickly sweet mist on top of her head. One look upwards had her already enlarged eyes bulging, a silent scream cart-wheeling around her mouth as she stared fixedly into the face of the creature before her.

Its grotesque features swam into her chocolate pools, skimming from one unnatural feature to the other, taking in his physical distortions and throwing them onto the ever growing mountain that would ultimately be her nightmares. It certainly didn't help matters when his expression grew even more repulsive, stretching his lips across those pearly incisors in such a way it nearly consumed his entire face. "Surprised?"

_More like floored._

Out of all the witty comments Vanellope had at her disposal, nothing short of a squeak wheezed out, prompting the dangling atrocity's laugh to deepen, "Hoo-hoo, oh what's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" Leering venomously from his perch, he wasted no time in twisting himself fully around, claws grappling the chocolate surface effortlessly enough until both he, and she, were properly spun about and righted from the wall to the ground. The hold upon her neck lifted away soon after, though not without nicking a small section under her chin; Vanellope shooting a hand up to cover the wound. Her pulse raced wickedly and although he may no longer be threatening to slice her head off, no form of comfort came to the child. Especially when one look around showed her body practically caged in his palms.

Scrunching up, she tried to shrink as much as humanly possible into her poofy pink party dress, gasping when he hoisted her up a few more notches. The malformed virus pressed his face mere inch's from her own, taking in every frightened inch of the child who seemed to have lost her bite, "What's thisth? No witty retorts? I'm disthappointed in you, Penelope."

"V…V-Vanellope… It's Vanellope." she quickly squared her shoulders, firming her voice, along with her expression, "President Vanellope Von Schweetz to you." Releasing her skirt, the child scrambled to her knees to match his glare and - heaven help her- poke a finger at his bulbous nose, "the rightful ruler of this land. Now I don't know how you survived the volcano or what you've done to my game but you better-"

"YOUR game?" He threw his head back, cackling into the rafters. "Oh-hoo, that's… that's a good one. Your game. Haahaa." And like the flip of a coin, his jovial appearance mutated into that same terrifying monster she'd first set eyes upon, cracking his claws around her until the tips grazed dangerous along her scalp, "I don't think you grasp the situation. You sthee, this is very much MY game now. Or it will be shortly." A chest leg bopped her nose, immediately having her bat him away with a hiss, "Not on your second life, bub!"

"Oh? And what, pray tell, are you going to do about-?" In that instant she zipped from his hold, a flurry of blue pixels exploding from his hand to his shoulder, leaving behind nothing save her party dress in his clutch.

It took a matter of nano seconds before Turbo's mind fully caught up with itself, screwing his head towards the girl now glitching from one end of his body to the next until landing knees first on the floor. She wasted no time in collecting herself, giving a half hearted peek behind only to stand immediately after, pounding her feet into the ground with renewed vigor.

Turbo could do nothing save suppress the giggles tickling up his belly, hunkering down his torso in a charging position, "Stho… the little mouse wants to play?" Spreading his arms wide, he flexed his body until it blocked the door completely, wagging his tails in excitement. "Then lets play."

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A/N: I hope I'm keeping everyone in character but I admit King Candy Turbug is a difficult character to write. Especially incorporating his blasted lisp into every sentence. I don't know if I'll continue with that though it certainly is kind of fun. "Kinda" being the key word.

Originally this chapter went on a little longer. I decided to cut it short and just post this bit now (mostly because I'm tired and don't want to proof read the rest). So the next chapter will hopefully not take to long to complete.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 2

It took everything within Vanellope to keep her mind focused, weaving erratically between the columns while praying to any higher force to concealed her movements. The darkness, though nearly impenetrable, still maintained a few gray areas that left a darting target as herself fully exposed. Were it not for these newly constructed beams, she highly doubted she'd have made it this far without his detection, and by the sounds of all things that scuttled about, her luck would not last for much longer.

In a last minute effort she spun her body just in time to duck, pressing herself fully against the chocolate surface and even going so far as to stand on her tip toes so that every molecule melted into it. Horrifying images played across her imagination, most of which painted a not-so-pretty picture should she be discovered.

The heavy tap tapping grew in intensity, purposely scrapping along the tiles with a slow, leisurely pace that sent her heart hammering something fierce. The girl clasped both eyes shut, forcing a hand to her mouth to stifle any squeaks tumbling along her tongue. She could not, however, close off his sickening sweet sing-songy voice, or ignore how it echoed into every recess this chamber possessed, "Oh where oh where can the little glitch be? Oh where oh where can she be? Is she far or near?" His claws crackled in anticipation as inch by agonizing inch he swept around each post, "Is she quaking with fear?" Pivoting his neck from side to side, his grin only intensified the further he pressed into her location. "Oh where," another step, "oh where… can she…"

A tiny, traitorous hiccup revealed itself.

And she knew, at that precise second, it was over. For a while she simply stood there, shaking uncontrollably, waiting for him to pounce around the bend and most likely devour her whole. Any second.

Some time today.

Or not.

After the agonizing moment passed, with nothing tearing through her code save for a short glitch, the tiny racer peeked one eye. When nothing but darkness greeted her, she opened the other, lowering her hands to her sides and straining to pick up any sounds that lingered about the chamber. The silence became almost deafening and suddenly she found herself completely at a lose for what to make of this.

Did he hear her? Surely he must have, how could he not? The sound had been small, but not small enough to escape a predator on the prowl. Or perhaps he truly hadn't caught the sound at all. At least not with his constant off key singing rocking about.

The eeriness plagued her until curiosity took full root, she swinging her face to look around only to fall back short and scream when his looming features came into view. Around the pillar he wrapped, neck outstretched to its fullest and expanding his jaw to display every jagged tooth he possessed. "Game over, GLITCH!"

Vanellope shot so quickly past his claws she scarcely had time to register the speed. Her feet carried her far past his reach, glitching right, then left, dodging every swipe purely on instinct as adrenaline pushed her harder, faster, for the doors. Barreling for them full tilt, she threw her energy now for the exit, gritting her teeth knowing each whoosh from behind signaled just how quickly the distance evaporated between them. "Just focus…" the ground shook violently, her breath hitching for every awkward stumble that slowed her down, "and concentrate…" tears streaked down her chin as she pushed harder, eyes never straying from her goal, her freedom, her salvation, "and… GLITCH!"

Straight through the door she flew, pixels slicing between the barrier in a wild lightening blue explosion, quickly reformatting themselves into their proper order once on the other side. The static cleared almost immediately and, for a split second, she felt herself over in disbelief, "I'm… I'm alive." Glancing at the equally shocked guards, the excitement bubbled up until she was practically leaping for joy, pumping her chubby fist in the air, "I'M ALIVE! I'm alive I'm alive I'm alive, oh yeah, alive!"

Taffyta wrenched away from her guard, the concern and obvious puzzlement evident, "Vanellope? Are you alright? What in the Sam hill is going on in-?" Her question fell short for all became silenced when an explosive roar rocked the very foundation to its bones. The bellows grew in volume, to the point all were forced to shield their ears, until at long last the doors shattered off their hinges and threw the lot clear off their feet.

Vanellope spun just in time to see her fellow racers knocked down, buried neck deep under the falling debris. Reaching a hand out, she held back only after she saw them stir. Luckily, no one seemed to be hurt. Shaken -yes- but no real injuries, thank God.

The relief she felt was short lived however, for it slipped back into the fear from before, especially when a familiar misshapen silhouette filled the hollow space between the doors.

Turbo hunched there like the rabid animal he now resembled, jaw slacken, claws digging into the frame as his focus strayed only a fraction upon the horrified individuals below. Those assessing slits skimmed halfheartedly over their tearful faces, shadowing them in his immense stature until dragging his sights back onto his intended target. He gave no thought to those that stood underfoot, not even the children who scrambled frantically to avoid his heavy foot falls.

"Glitch," Waggling a finger, the silent command garnered nothing short but a firm head shake from her; Vanellope taking a hesitant step back, ready to spin around at a moments notice should he advance. But that plan for self preservation fell short, especially when his eyes, that once bore so ruthlessly into her own, fixed themselves down towards the groveling racers.

Flexing his digits, he wasted not time in lowering his upper body, placing his hands palm down to support the weight, "Hello my little dumplings. Did you miss me?" There silence seemed answer enough, prompting a torturous round of hoo-hooing on his part, "Oh, no need to be shy. I don't bite. Well… not much." A lick from his chops sent a shiver through the lot, Rancis, no longer able to hold himself together, leapt to his feet that very instant to flee.

Sadly for him, even with Turbo's attention swung elsewhere, he did not miss the boys eagerness to depart and promptly slammed a hand directly in his path. A slow, assessing glower froze the child in place, rendering him nothing short of a crying, shaking, snotty mess a mere inch from begging for his life. "I don't recall dismissing you from this heart felt reunion, fluggerbutter. So kindly do yourself a favor and **SIT DOWN**!" The boy wasted no time in plopping, burring his face in his knees as a large hand patted his head none to gently, "Now children, I bet you're all just _dying _to know why I've gathered you here today."

"P-please," Nougetsia chocked, voice nothing more than a hoarse whisper, "pl-please don't k-kill us. Wha-what ever you had planned, please…"

"Aw, punk-a-diddle, is that what you thought I'd do to you?" His face now swung towards her, cooing gently with hands clasped at his heart, "My star racers? Why, the game wouldn't be the same without you. Well… some of you at least." he added the last part flippantly, eyeing a few in particular, including the paralyzed Vanellope.

A collected gasp rippled through the group, some clinging to each other desperately for support.

"I had hoped your "_president_" would be more cooperative, especially regarding my wittle cavities fates, but since she's clearly opted not to participate, I suppose the duty falls solely on my shoulders."

Their cries certainly did nothing save feed his sadistic amusement; Rancis being the first to shot up and pledge his loyalty in exchange for his life. Minty followed swiftly behind him, as did two more, while others brought up their track record in order to sway the monsters decision.

And Vanellope, still a few paces away, could only stand there, shocked beyond belief to see how easily some were won over - and a tad bit angry about it too! '_Really guys? REALLY?! You just… after all we've been through… you! Just kiss his tookus why don't ya?!_' her inner struggle went unnoticed as Turbo practically clapped in excitement, resting his elbows on the broken door pieces to lean ever closer to the lot. "You all make such wonderful arguments, I'm beside myself on what to do. How about we be diplomatic about this, eh? A game of eeny meeny miny moe? That's fair, right? Or perhaps bubblegum bubblegum in a dish?" his finger pointed to the nearest racers, stopping only shortly to shave a large glop from Candlehead's hat.

And with that one, lingering lick, the green haired child knew it was all over. For apparently he found the taste to his liking and audibly said so with a hum. His once playful expression glinted dangerously yet again, narrowing on the girl so completely she hardly knew what to do, let alone move. "It looks like I've found my first orderve for the evening." Twiddling his fingers, a tug on her booted foot nearly made the girl soil herself.

Screaming and thrashing, she soon found herself suspended upside down, holding her skirt the entire time while crying, "OH GOD! Please no, please please don't eat meeeeEEEeeee! Please your majesty! PLEASE!" Begging certainly didn't deter her devourer in the slightest, nor did the pleas from her comrades and most especially Vanellope, who by now could not stand to watch this display any longer. "No… Don't you.. Don't you even think about it you eight legged freak!" In a heated moment her body collided painfully against his own, having crossed the distance in one single zap to slam her fists into his candy coated leg, unleashing all the pint up anger, hurt and pain from before… all the while unaware when his hold upon Candlehead slipped in exchange for the tiny president.

Glitch's crackled along her entire frame, his grip so tight she nearly lost the ability to breath. Wiggling around did little but tickle him further, to her mounting frustration, and biting his thumb also did nothing for her predicament -other than make her teeth feel like they'd explode.

A snicker quickly warped into a full out belly laugh. One so deep, so maniacal, even the guards found themselves backing away (and trying to remain as small as possible while doing so).

"Now that you're finished wasting my time," clenching his fist, a scream tore through Vanellope so ruthlessly her pixels wavered, "what's say we try that conversation again, shall we?"

"S-sire?" One guard piped, resuming his hold on Jubileena, "What should we do with the children?"

Turbo's brows arched slightly, skimming over the group carelessly. To be honest he frankly didn't care, at least not for the time being. That clearly showed through his dismissing wave and none to sympathetic tone, "I'll sort through them later. For now, they are here by grounded. And when I say grounded, hoo-hoo, I mean bolt them to the **WALLS**! See to it these little miscreants stay in the dungeon until further notice."

Not a peep of protest resounded from the racers, for they found this a far more merciful fate then what Candlehead had faced, or Vanellope for that matter. Their shoulders slackened to the point the guards hardly had to herd them. If anything, they drug themselves down the darkening halls, completely pliable and broken, every now and then throwing apologetic glances towards their leader who still fought to regain her pixels and reform her avatar. Brief glimpses of her tear streaked face did little to alleviate the sorrow gnawing at their hearts, some whispering what perhaps was their final parting words to her.

And she to them, mouthing "I'm sorry" over and over.

If she had been a wiser ruler they would have returned to Game Central Station long ago. If she hadn't been stubborn, worried and most especially curious then they would not be in this mess. But she had been reckless, she refused to think as any good ruler should and now… sweeping her sights back towards that gloating monstrosity she could only chew back the sobs, asking herself, What now?

* * *

A/N: And done. My God, this chapter gave me so much hell you wouldn't believe it. I honestly struggled with how zanny or intimidating to make Turbo so I hope it came out decent. I also took out all the lisping, which helped in some cases because lets be honest with ourselves. It's kinda hard to feel threatened by a guy that slurs his 'S' all the time... even if he is a 17 foot behemoth bent on total domination and possible consumption of all things living.

So now that that's out of the way, the next chapter will involve (AND FINALLY GET TO THE POINT OF THIS STORY) Turbo's conditions. And what a lovely way he has at proposing this offer.

P.S. I'd also like to apologize for how long this took to upload. I did a system restore on my computer and like a dumbdumb, I didn't save the file. So all of today I've been rewriting from memory. Pardon my stupidity.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: My apologies for waiting so long to update. I don't have any other excuse other than laziness and the fact I spend to much time on Tumblr. But hopefully this extra long chapter will make up for that.

Also, I've had a few of you ask if Turbo is going to stay in his cybug form throughout the story. My answer to that is... would that be so bad? He's still Turbo after all, regardless the outer appearance. Besides, I have a few idea's on how "graceful" -cough cough- he'll be in the future, what with his over sized body.

And who knows what the future may hold when it comes to if he can change. That, my dear readers, is something you'll have to wait and see.

* * *

Chapter 3

A sigh slipped through his teeth, his eyes, once trained on the departing figures, now swam to the little captive still gasping for air between his claws. That little spark from before seemed diminished now, or perhaps smothered all together by the looks of her damp cheeks. The lost expression held little to no emotions save for one, and in that he could not help but run his tongue over his lips in delight. She tried, oh how she tried to mask the terror bubbling beneath her surface, only to fall short with quivering breaths and pleading eyes that intensified her childish appearance.

Turbo once again hovered his face near hers, feasting with sadistic delight on the girls obvious discomfort, "Now now, don't give me that pout. You should've known this would happen. After all, I think I've made it abundantly clear I always get what I want."

He certainly made a good point. She couldn't recall a time the king had ever been denied his wish's, no matter how small or insignificant they were.

Vanellope scrunched her brows, trying several times to turn her thoughts into words, or at the very least unjumble them for a cohesive sentence. But nothing short of hiccups came and what few sounds were forced out nothing short of chirps.

"Now how do you like that? She's speechless! Hoo-hoo and here I thought I'd never live to see the day. Ah, but then again you have a reason to be, dontcha dear?"

'Yeah, ya think?' Vanellope tried to mount a scowl, especially when he honked her still aching nose as if she were nothing but a fussy 2 year old, "Y-yer darn tootin I got a -ow- r-reason to be… OW! Would ya STOP THAT!"

His snickers, or hisses as she preferred to call them, were nothing short of infuriating. Even when he covered his mouth the sounds could not be muffled, carrying on into his voice when he spoke, "I suppose you've got a point. We have more important matters to discus… such as your surrender."

If she'd been drinking something, she surely would have spat it out that instant.

Is that really what he wanted? For her to admit defeat when she clearly hung an inch away from deletion?

That defiance from before rekindled into a new chaotic form, swelling into the immense fire storm she no longer found the capacity to hold back -consequences be damned. "Are you serious?! After everything you've done to my people, to this game, to ME! Do I even have to say that?"

"More or less."

God, how she wished he really would be struck down, or at the very least have her hands free to do the job herself. They burned something fierce while pressed against her body, wanting nothing more than to wrap around his slender neck and ring it until he no longer moved.

"Fine! You've slithered your way back into power… for now. Your mother should be so proud."

"I'm sorry, did you just mumble a threat? Yes, I think you did."

Vanellope sighed exasperatedly, fluttering her lashes and looking coyly up at the brute she mimicked, "Me? Would I do that?"

Lowering his face, as he seemed prone to do every chance he got, his lids capped into what clearly gave his expression a darker tint than before. "Me thinks you don't know when to quit when you're a head. Such a dirty habit for someone in your position." His point became even more emphasized when he pinched his thumb around her throat, causing her to sputter when that all to familiar pressure clogged her air way.

"H-hey I'm just saying that bad guys, ya know, they don't live long and prosper. Not for long. Maybe a little long but not long long. So… er… what ever you got cooking in that twisty turny noggin of yours, yeah um, pretty sure it wont work."

"Gasp! It wont?" Turbo immediately slapped a hand to his cheek, looking down right aghast. "Oh no, I never thought of that. And here I worked so hard overthrowing your kingdom, enslaving your people and capturing you. Heavens to Betsy, if I had only known it wouldn't work…"

"Don't patronize me." Vanellope tried to hold a flat tone, a difficult feat in itself, especially with his lacking concept for personal space and his heavy hearted limp towards the throne room.

"Face it, toots, you've lost. The game, your people… all gone. So long, bye-bye."

"It's not game over yet! When I get my hands on you-" Squirming around did little but heighten his amusement, he swishing his hand to expertly roll her over his knuckles, much in the same manner a magician let a coin tumble over their fingers.

When at last Vanellope came to a stop, flushed and scrambling to find her equilibrium, she found herself suspended once again and never any closer to the ground. Always pressed to his face, or at least touching distance from it, sending her to peddle back uselessly until she all but swayed in his finger tips. Turbo took great delight in dangling her from the jackets hood, leering all the more when her efforts only served to where her out further, "I think it's high time you dealt with the reality, princess. If it isn't obvious by now then let me spell things out for you. Your kingdom has fallen." he made the point by dropping into his newly crafted throne, "Everything and everyone here now belongs to me. Including you. And the only reason I see fit to let you live is because I haven't grown weary of your presence. Yet."

"Ralph will-"

"Ralph?" If she thought his laugh was sinister before, clearly she had never heard this version. Holding his belly, he nearly toppled the chair backwards to howl into the ceiling, "That sorry excuse for an antagonist? He's… HOOHAAAHAAAA. You really think he's going to save you?" Vanellope pouted a determined lip, nodding, "Uh DOI! He beat you before and he'll do it again. And again and again until you DON'T come back!"

"Then I've got news for you. Oh boy do I ever. Your "knight" in shining armor isn't coming for you. No one is. You can bet your sweet patooti on that, my darling little sugar plum." His head flickered from one to the other, briefly allowing those words to sink in with sadistic satisfaction, "Do I make myself clear?"

Though this did rattle her some what, Vanellope refused to believe any of the garbage he spewed. Honestly, how could she, or anyone for that matter, believe this creature when his entire empire had been built upon a foundation of lies and deception? "Afraid not, your royal suckiness. At least not with that god awful listhp you got there."

His eye twitched, despite how his smile never wavered. She rather felt than saw the difference ripple through his system, pulling her arms fully around herself for support.

Apparently he was right. She didn't know when to shut her yap.

Surprisingly he said nothing, leaning back in his seat with her just a slip away from greeting his incisors. "So," she began, curling her legs in to keep them in a safe proximity, "we've h-had our talk. We're good, right?" a glance at his raised eyebrow said otherwise yet she still continued, "So everything's squared away and you're… you're not going to eat me are you?"

Opening his maw, Vanellope squealed when his steamy breath wafted along her limbs, whirling his tongue along each tooth as if indecisive, "I suppose that depends on you. See, the problem with being a virus is I'm always plagued with that pesky urge to consume everything in sight." he made a show by tapping his belly, "Not that I cant suppress it of course, but I do find it more gratifying to give in to temptation."

"And are you going to," she audibly gulped, "give in to it now?"

"As I said before, that all depends on you."

"Wha… what do you mean?"

Lifting his neck away, Turbo smoothed over his voice so that the lisp she so comically pointed out became suppressed only to the outer edges, "As you can see I've pretty much accomplished my main objective. Or a majority of it at least. There's no time like the present to take back what once was mine."

Her eye roll didn't go unnoticed, for he sat up straighter, hissing, "Correct?" One look and she instantly bit her lip, shrugging her shoulders with a nod. "If this was YOUR game to begin with, sthupid. But what's your point?" Blast it all! She nearly slapped herself to stop taunting him, scrunching up in time to see that tick from before ripple along the rest of his countenance, looking none to thrilled she continued to belittle his claim over her world and her title.

The once leisurely position he held became rigid, he easing into an upright position that grew even stiffer the further he departed from his chair. The static, which had once been a small trace coursing along his faces outer edges, now shimmered across its entirety until she no longer found either feature distinguishable. The surface just peeled into many crisscrossing sections, becoming a blend between two entities that could no longer decide which it preferred to be apart of.

For the briefest moments Vanellope truly feared for herself. She knew no matter how the red binary jumbled up his visage, his stare remained solely on her. The burn alone told her so and she cursed her remark all the more.

"I thought we went over this, sugar plum," At last it transformed into the King Candy head and remained thus, his voice eerily quiet despite the venom coating every syllable, "but clearly you aren't the best at listening. So let me explain it again so even a simpleton such as yourself can understand. All of this," his hand gestured towards the castle, "This is MINE! Everything, everyone here, belongs to ME!" Her hair flew back, she holding back a cry when the spittle practically drenched her entire front.

No caddy remarks flew through her mind, only the unadulterated fear that in a few short span of a few sentences she may very well end up with her head bitten clean off; much like those candy people dangling from the ceiling.

Opening her eyes, she found his once enraged expression now bordering on psychotic. Though despite his ear shattering roars or the fangs crunching a fraction from her nose, it was the declaration itself that frightened her the most. They were no more citizens to him than pawns were valued pieces to a chess board. Some how they had become nothing more than objects, things for him to play or dispose with at his own leisure and she, now caught between claw and teeth, found what ever attitude she'd been ready to throw his way dissolve into an eerie quietness unknown to herself.

When at last she reemerged from those thoughts, shivering and choking back her grief, she found he'd already settled into his seat, having recovered from his outburst far faster than she and now remained slumped cradling his chin, "Do you know what your problem is? You're far to outspoken for your own good. That's something I'm going to have to remedy before to long.

"SOUR BILL!" His teeth crackled around the name, drawing forth the large eyed candy who, until this point, remained silently hidden behind the throne.

"Y-y-yes your m-majes-sty?" If ever Vanellope had seen the npc, she knew it'd never been with this much trepidation seeping from his tangy core. His trembling gave such away, as did the hesitancy in revealing himself. Yet it didn't take long before the piercing stare from Turbo soon nailed him to the spot, forcing the candy character to hunker even lower to the ground, unable to do anything but stare at his masters tails.

"Take this ungrateful brat to her room, and see to it she's made _comfortable_ in my absence." With that his hold on her suddenly released, Sour Bill scrambling to just barely catch the child mid fall. His efforts were not in vain, for the instant Vanellope fell into his arms she clung to him as if her very life depended on it; burying her face into his cranium and releasing a ragged sob that could pull at anyone's heartstrings. Even his own.

Yet facing his majesty, the assistant did not find such sympathy lying. One would have to possess a heart for that. Turbo simply turned his nose from the girls sniveling, hardly giving the two a second thought. A simple flick from he wrist dismissed them, Sour Bill bowing with Vanellope in tow, directing his shuffling feet for a separate set of doors leading to a place the former president knew all to well.

She clung to him desperately, even though she knew her weight was a burden and it was probably sheer will power alone that kept him from dropping her. But she found herself unable to release the sphere, not when it felt like everything would crumble away if she did and he, despite his sour off putting smell or grunts to hold her at all, he was the only thing left of her old world. The only normal thing to cling to in this off putting world.

The haunting voice of Turbo flitted through her sniffles, piercing a part of her heart to see the monster smiling almost knowingly in her direction, waggling his fingers in farewell, "Until we meet again, princess."

* * *

Her mind felt foggy, almost drug like in its sudden state of forgetfulness. Cracking one lid open, the girl performed a quick mental check before finally stirring the rest of her body. She was unsure when she'd fallen asleep, or even that she could given the circumstances. But with all the stress that accumulated over such a short span of time, the physical strain and the possible, if not inevitable, doom to herself and others… she suppose she deserved a little rest from the ordeal.

Once Sour Bill had deposited her in said "comfy" room, the last thing she recalled centered around the oreo guards clasping a shackle and chain around her waist, as per the norm, and leaving her within the fungeon's quiet solitude to contemplate past events. Though she admitted the one chain was a vast improvement, it didn't make the experience any less aggravating or enjoyable. It hung there like a weight over her heart, doing nothing to comfort her in any way, shape or form either, seeming to serve as a cruel reminded she couldn't escape. Not that she would without the others mind you, but the sight of it there, the touch from its cool, metallic surface, only plummeted her hopes to be free from this prison.

Her hand grazed over the links, thinking back to the other racers and wondering if they, too, were stuck in a similar cell with the same restraints and the same frigid temperature biting into their skin. Were they crying for help, for a savior? Were they hurt or… worse? 'No, don't even consider that. He wouldn't do that. He CANT do that to them. He cant…'

Vanellope refused to consider he'd harm them. Surely he wasn't that stupid. If anything were to happen to the playable characters, their game had no real purpose to stay plugged in, which left the rest without a home. He knew this, right? Or did that virus programming do far worse to his psyche than she originally assumed?

Vanellope didn't want to think to hard about it. It seemed a fruitless endeavor to try and pick apart that creeps motives, she shaking her head to clear the questions before they began chasing after one another again. She had to be focused, she had to plan her next move. She had to…

A shuffling caught in her ears, spinning her around to face the door faster than she thought possible while chained. To her relief, Sour Bill stood to greet her, looking none the worse for wear and holding what appeared to be a white bundle in his hands. "Hey stranger. You come here often?" Pushing up right, she all but welcomed the candy assistants company.

Still he hung back, eyes just as large and glassy as before though this time a great deal more roaming on his part. Almost as if he could scarcely believe what he saw. But it was no different from when he'd left her. Everything still hung secure on the walls, the doors were still shut, no doubt locked from the outside, and she'd scarcely moved since he'd left her there crying into her knees.

"Ah, I know." she quipped, ruffling back her bangs nervously, "I suffer from the worlds worst bed head. It's all that candy that sorta mutates in there." she made a point to shake the already tangled locks, smiling softly at the little guy who instantly dropped his gaze, a sorrowful frown planted on the white fabric. "Is it that bad?"

"It's the only thing the same as usual, your presidency."

"That's good. I was afraid I looked like his royal crudeface by the way you were staring. Er… you ok Billy boy?"

He shifted in place, keeping both eyes planted firmly on the ground, "Yes ma'am. But…" a brief look up, then down to the white fabric, "you may want to use this."

Hesitantly he placed it in her lap, in which she only gave a puzzled look between he and the item, not quite sure what to make of the lacy wrapper material she once thought a blanket. Upon unfolding it, she soon discovered the length and identity of said item, scrunching her face in a mixture of scoffing and laughter. "Uh… this is a dress. An ugly dress."

"His majesty picked it out himself."

"A very ugly dress." From what she originally thought all white, upon unraveling it showed the vertical red stripes strung across the front, falling into ribbons and bow tails that flowed into the skirts many ruffles. And what a length they were too!

Vanellope scarcely knew how she'd ever wear something this big. Why, it looked to be made for someone in Calhoun's size, with an actual bust to fill it out. Her nose crinkled. "Oh my code, has he gone banana split crazy? I'm not wearing this. It wont even fit."

"You'd be surprised."

"Ahurr hurr, sure. If I spontaneously grew like a kajillion inch's and got dressed in the dark. What even…?" She turned the dress upside down, snorting at the tent sized bottom that expanded for miles, "Honestly, I could use this thing as a parachute. Dress making is definitely not Turbutt's forte."

Sour Bill covered his smile flawlessly, straightening up the best a candy coated sphere could, "Regardless, it's best not to disappoint his kingliness."

"Yeah, we wouldn't want THAT to happen?"

"No, we don't."

The light heartedness dissipated instantaneously with those three, solemn words. For once Vanellope didn't know how to respond to the usually cynical character. His frosty indifference was something she'd grown accustomed to. But this… the severity in his voice, his rough, haggard appearance from living through what she could only assume the greatest horrors life had to offer, rendered her mute, especially when he continued, "Please. It's best to just duck your head and… and do what he commands."

"Sour Bill, what did he do? While I was gone, how did he… what did he do to this place? To you?"

"… He took control."

The pain in his eyes spoke volumes, to the point she could not ignore the plea that resided there. This once stoic candy resembled nothing more than a broken man. One who'd seen things far beyond imagination, yet lacked the vocabulary to fully articulate the horrors in their entirety. This did not stop him from trying, rubbing his hands together in a nervous habit, perhaps to shed light on the situation, or prepare her for the less than favorable future, "For those that opposed him, you may have seen their remains. We had no choice but to surrender… or face consumption."

"They haven't respawned either, have they?"

A firm shake from his head confirmed it, plummeting her heart into even deeper despair. This monster not only strong armed his way into the vault to alter the landscape, but their very codes as well.

This revelation became a terrifying reality. 'It really is game over for everyone. He's destroyed everything! He's… won…'

"I should've been here."

"There's nothing you could've done, your presidency."

"You don't know that. I could've done SOMETHING if I'd just been here instead of leaving you all defenseless!"

"You couldn't have seen this coming. No one did."

"Sour Bill," She hated how her voice sounded more whinny than authoritative, clenching her hands and trying to string together her thoughts, "there has to be something we can do. He has to have a weakness, a-a blind spot. Something he's overlooked that we can take advantage of and…" Her shoulders slumped in defeat, fretting her lip all the more when her advisor did nothing save shake his head regrettably, "I'm sorry, your majesty."

"B-but-"

"Even if there was a way, I cant…" and it pained him greatly to admit that.

"No… it's alright. I'm the one who should be apologizing. If I'd been a better ruler, none of this would've happened. If I'd been here for you-"

"You would've shared the others fate. Or…" He trailed off at the last. Something strange passed over his face in that instant, realization of some sort perhaps, yet he swallowed what ever it was that dangled on his tongue, instead turning his thoughts over in another direction entirely, "I-it's best you get changed. Quickly."

"Will you be ok?"

"So long as I stay useful, I'll be off the menu. I recommend you do the same." He made a point by gesturing towards the dress, something she found even more distasteful than before. The fabric glided across her fingers as if she were grasping smoke, smooth to the touch and horrible at the same time. Gritting her teeth, it took an infinite amount of will power to keep from shredding the revolting thing down the middle.

She tightened her hold around its edges, ready to do just that. To please that monster seemed a fate far worse than death. In fact, she practically welcomed it so long as she made him froth in rage. 'But the consequences,' a small part pushed through, stilling her movements all together, 'are you willing to face them, Vanellope? Can you live with what he'll do to not just you, but the others too?'

If the punishment rested solely on her shoulders, she knew with out a doubt she'd have no qualms with going against Turbo. But looking down at Sour Bill, who now repeatedly stammered "NO" as if his life depended on it, kept her from making a most grievous mistake.

Lowering the dress, the fight instantaneously deflated from her spirit, leaving behind a hollowness in her chest; her chin dipping to fitfully stare at the red and white gown, then its matching veil.

Suddenly her eyes took on a whole new shine, taking in something she'd over looked while first taking in its previous appearance. It boggled her mind at first, only to solidify into a shocking revelation that left her gapping.

"Is this a wedding dress?"


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 4

Once the statement flew out, Vanellope deeply regretted saying it. Suddenly it crystallized into something that felt far to real for her liking, as if voicing her assumption gave it life, shaping it into a dangerous reality that had no reason to exist. Yet here it stood, unfurled before her, whispering bitter truths she did not want to wrap her mind around.

Holding the gown far from herself, she shook her head repeatedly to dispel this numbness possessing her. She hardened her eyes, turning towards the candy ball for confirmation, and dreading what he had to say on the matter. "Tell me this isn't what I think it is. This is a joke, right? A really sick, twisted, I-don't-even-know kind of joke."

He fiddled with his hands, unwilling or unable to meet her stare. The only answer she received was a distant, "I'm sorry, your majesty." Then nothing more.

For the umpteenth time that day Vanellope found herself dumb struck. Had she not mentally prepared herself even a little she may very well have fainted on the spot. The color drained at a rapid pace from her cheeks, her mouth flopping open, repeatedly trying to formulate an intelligent response that just wouldn't come no matter how diligently she pressed. "Oh god, this cant be happening. This isn't… I cant…" Clenching her hands, the blank expression twisted into one that simmered, "NO! I wont believe this. I mean, has everyone lost their cotton candy pickin minds?! I just… no words man. None. I'm done with this."

"B-but princess Vanello-"

"I SAID I'M DONE! I don't know what's going on, I don't think I WANT to know, but I'll tell you this much. I'd rather face deletion than marry that fudging MONSTER!"

"Ouch. Your words wound me."

Like a punch to the gut, Vanellope found herself struggling to breath. Her hot temperedness fizzled inside her lungs, the task to inhale growing more and more difficult now that the fungeon door rotated on its hinges, revealing the very creature she so loathed hovering behind it. Turbo heavily flung himself against the metal, appearing to have fallen into a swoon, one hand draped over his brow while the other rested upon his none existent heart. "Have mercy, sweet lady. Your refusal is killing me."

'Then die already, sheesh.' She thought bitterly, hardly in the mood for his dramatics. The scowl she displayed didn't go unnoticed, his agonized features slipping back into its usual sliminess, chuckling, "Now why must you hurt me so? I've been nothing but hospitable to you."

"You call this hospitable?" Vanellope launched to her feet, rattling the chain for emphasis.

"I can make it worse. MUCH worse."

"I think you being here has already done that."

"Tsk, someone's in a foul mood." In just a few short strides he peeled himself fully from the door, inhabiting the space Sour Bill once occupied; the assistant having long ago scurried to the farthest corner, opting to remain out of sight.

The giant's shadow swallowed her up completely, towering like a massive black entity that bloated out what little light shone from above. Vanellope wasted no time to spin around, throwing down the chain to confront this creature head on and, hopefully, maintain an air of confidence while doing so.

She wouldn't lie in regards that he did, in fact, terrify her tremendously. His grotesque form alone made her stomach churn, and now to have him so close yet again did little but shrivel the small scraps of courage she'd quickly constructed. He knew this of course, having tasted her fear long before entering. It practically became palpable the closer he drew, and she, squaring her trembling shoulders, held little chance to conceal it from his heightened senses.

His final step purposely slammed into the floor, splintering the hard exterior into multiple cracks near her feet. If she'd forgotten his strength from before, he wasted no time to remind her of it now.

Yet despite her flinch, she surprisingly did not stumble as he had predicted. Vanellope remained firm, tilting her neck to the furthest degree possible in order to maintain eye contact. Her hands inadvertently clenched around the dress, grimacing slightly when her own nails bit into her palm. 'Just keep calm. Breath in and out. You're the President for cripes sake so it's time you started acting like it.'

"I think we should-" her voice instantly retreated down her throat when he lowered his torso, the movement so quick she had little choice but to fall on her bottom to avoid a head on collision with his chest. His hand slammed ruthlessly on the ground, missing her by inch's and now, as she scuttled away from his intrusive presence, found her back flushed against wall. 'Wonderful.'

"As you were saying."

"I… I… ahem." Fumbling, she finally chocked back the lump, "I think we should talk more about you controlling my-" His brow rose, "YOUR game."

"… I'm listening."

"Oh, uh." she scrabbled to gather her thoughts, trying to piece them together just right, "I think you've done a splendid job managing the full scale take over. Yeah. There's some questionable moments but, um… Ya really got a knack for being a vill- for being a king." She gave a hesitant smile, glancing every once in a while at Sour Bill for some support, and receiving a few nods in approval. 'So far so good.'

However, her eyes immediately snapped back towards Turbo, his heavy body scrapping along the floor as it settled fully upon it, pushing her even more against the wall when his head, now nestled in his claws, leaned forward, "Why thank you. You have no idea how much your approval means to me."

Blast him and his condescending tone!

"Now why don't you spare me the flattery and get to the point of this conversation. I haven't got all day. There's still one loose end to take care of, and I think you know what that entails."

Her eyes bulged, holding the gown to her chin in a sad attempt to shield herself, "About that. This whole "marriage" thing… it doesn't HAVE to happen. I mean, pffft! What's that all about? Who needs it, am I right? Do you really want a girl like me nagging you about everything? No? I didn't think so. So why don't we just sweep it under the rug, pretend it never came up and you can go back to being scary and doing what ever it is a scary guy like you does. Ok? Ok. Glad we had this talk."

His smile never so much as altered throughout her entire spill, apparently being immune towards her efforts to butter him up, 'BLAST IT ALL!'

For a time he didn't respond, and this, she realized, was far more intimidating than his usual bouts of anger. She simply didn't know what to expect, at least not when he leered in that manner, thumping one finger along his cheek as if to count down the seconds for his response. Fidgeting anxiously in place, it unnerved her to no end living in the unknown, particularly when he studied her so intently she felt her very soul writhing under his scrutiny.

When at last the silence grew almost unbearable, he gave an almost devilish smirk, "You have one hour to get ready."

"Wha… wait. Didn't you hear me?"

"Your feelings are duly noted. Now, Sour Bill, make sure she's presentable for the occasion. I can't have my wife-to-be looking like a ragamuffin." He pinched her cheek, hefting himself up when she, through bouts of cursing and flailing, smacked him away growl, "I'm NOT marrying you."

"I don't recall asking." The mocking quality from before mutated into a menacing sort, cutting along his voice with a razors edge. It seemed all the humor he once possessed gave way to impatience, pinning her with the finality that left nothing to be argued with.

"Look, there's no reason for this. As much as I hate to say it, you have what you want! You don't need me to- "

"That's were you're wrong." Resting his weight on his arms, his neck extended until the only thing swimming in her vision was him and him alone. "You see, lemon pie, the problem is once you steal something, you spend your whole life fighting to keep it. I for one don't plan on wasting my precious time with frivolous disputes over ownership. That's why we're going to do things legally."

"Legally?" Hardening herself, she all but tossed the gown at his face, puffing up her cheeks, "You call bullying me into this legal?! You think threatening everyone here so you can play dictator is right? Well guess what, Buster Brown, it isn't! Apparently that dip in Diet Cola Mountain scrambled your brain worse than I thought if you think I'll ever agree to hand over the kingdom to you like this. Besides… I'm only 9 years old! That's about as illegal as you can get!"

Vanellope balked just a little when he suddenly lurched forward. She'd not been fully aware of his souring disposition while she ranted, nor the fact his entire body had lifted off the floor and now resembled the raised heckles on a dog. A strange gurgle worked its way from his chest, spewing from his gapping mouth that came dangerously close to her person.

But at the last possible second he stopped. His weight shifted, losing its stiff posture to sink into its resent calm state. One bushy brow arched, than the other, wiping away the anger for what she could only describe as a sudden awareness came over him. It didn't take long before that, too, melted away, becoming the usually pompous expression he'd come to wield so effortlessly.

A cackle slipped through his teeth, growing in volume until Vanellope swore she felt its rumbling timber vibrate in her bones. "So the little princess hasn't noticed yet." Turning towards Sour Bill, in an almost knowing manner, he barked with more laughter. "You didn't even tell her."

"What are you going on about?"

"Oooh, that is the million dollar question, now isn't it?"

Clinging to the gown even tighter, Vanellope nerved her lip, fretfully searching for an answer yet hesitant to receive it. Her attention skimmed towards the green sphere, pleading for him to tell her something, to reassure her in some way this was one of Turbo's demented jokes. The sour candy, how ever, only sunk even lower to the ground, closing his eyes in solemn resignation.

"S-Sour Bill?"

"Hoo-hoo, don't blame him for with holding the good news. I'm sure he didn't want to ruin the surprise." A monstrous claw laced around her chin, directing her back around, "Now dearest, I know this has to be a lot to take in but that dress," he laid it back on her lap, "it WILL fit you. Quite nicely in fact."

"That's impossible you crazy old coot."

His lids capped, intensifying his leer to a smolder, "Perhaps before I… tinkered. But now you have no excuse. Not with these…" His claw skimmed down the length of her throat, dipping into her hoods neckline to tug at the collar. The action rocketed her back so quickly she smashed her head against the wall, clutching at her front. And…

Her fingers cupped something strange, a thing that protruded from her front in a way nothing ever had before. On closer inspection, there appeared to be another one right beside it, being just as large and round and hanging there as if… as if it were apart of her.

Vanellope's heart thundered in her chest, she running her hands along her body, shaking the longer she took in these alien proportions. Her limbs were longer, thinner, connected to a body that now, after inspecting it more closely, held curves that did NOT belong on a child. They were more fitting for a…

"Oh my god…" she trembled violently, the queasiness in her stomach lurching up to the back of her throat once again. "Oh my god no. No no NO!"

If she'd been hysterical before, it could not stand up to the fit she now displayed. Clenching her eyes shut, she fought bitterly to drown out this new discovery. It hurt to breath, to think. She was chocking on air as she wailed into the dress, screaming, "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!?" over and over until her voice grew hoarse.

Turbo, for the most part, appeared unfazed by her "tantrum", flexing his claws to study the backs of them in a nonchalant manner. "Are you finished?"

"I can't believe you did this." She whispered, rocking back and forth, hugging herself to keep from completely losing her mind, "How could you do this? How could you…?" Her eyes filled to the brim, staring at the creature who could only sit there and bask in his own accomplishment, "You'd be surprised what I can do. Why, I'm practically god in this game. And you have your wrecker to thank for that."

"No… how could Ralph have-?"

"Ah tut tut. Time is wasting, my dear. We still have so much to do and so little time." He lurched to his feet, giving her one last glance before directing himself for the door. "Remember, sweet heart. One hour. I believe you can manage in that time frame. And if you keep me waiting…" He really didn't have to finish that threat, the tone itself suggested she would not like the consequences should she continue to refuse.

Vanellope all but stared at him, hugging herself and trying to hide the tears she knew were rapidly falling. A slight nod was the only answer she could muster, dipping her chin when he smiled none to reassuringly. Turbo wasted no more time on her, departing down the hall with his oreo entourage following close behind, singing a strange melody that left her gritting her teeth until its final echoes settled back into the stillness from before.

She was getting married.

And nothing was going to save her from it.

* * *

A/N: Another long chapter finished. It feels good to finally crank this one out and I actually enjoyed writing their banter this time around. I think it's because I was trying to _not_ make Turbo into this creepy individual (since originally this was supposed to be a humorous story too), but apparently I failed hard on that endeavor and decided if that's how I'm inadvertently portraying him, I might as well roll with it.

So there you have it. Not that he'll be like this throughout the story, but he certainly will for the time being. Let's just assume his cybug programming is the culprit behind that new personality trait, along with a few other's that will be showing up shortly.

Also, for anyone curious as to the song Turbo is singing down the hall, it's _"Get Me To The Church On Time"_ in My Fair Lady.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 5

Vanellope stood stock still, mesmerized by the reflection hovering a fingers touch away. She didn't know how long she remained there rooted in place, aware that for some time she'd been completely spellbound by the looking glass the moment she beheld it. Though it wasn't the mirror itself that entranced her so, it was the woman that peered through it, searching her with the same agonizing intensity she did to it.

Their eyes locked several times, and within each time Vanellope felt the volumes weigh heavily upon her.

How she wished for this to all be a lie. She wished with every fiber in her code for this image before her to be nothing but a feverish dream. Surely this could not be herself. This woman could not be real. Yet the more she studied the individual trapped within the glass, snatching small glimpses of the child she once was, the more she became certain that this was, indeed, herself and this dream she dreamed to end never would.

Hesitantly, her hands glided along the newly crafted proportions, watching the image intently as it mimicked her movements. For the first time since undressing she studied this new avatar in all its strangeness; no longer having the baggy hoodie to conceal the truths from her.

Turbo had been correct when he stated the dress would fit, and that it did quite snuggly too. Its fabric clung to every inch as if it were tailored specifically for her slim figure, which she wouldn't put it past him to do, the ruffles practically overwhelming her the moment she slipped it on. Nothing save her head and shoulders were visible a though she loath to admit it, at least it the mod awful thing did a fine job staying modest. "And the less that creep has to salivate over the better."

But even still it did not deviate from the fact she was fitted in this situation, forced to participate in this mock marriage that held nothing but a dark, bleak future for everyone.

Out of anger alone she snapped away from the mirror, unable to face herself, the dress or her choices any more. 'So… this is it, huh? THIS is what Sugar Rush has to look forward to for all eternity?' Clenching her fists, she stomped across the bathroom, circling it multiple times in order to walk off the frustration broiling inside.

"He thinks he can just waltz in here like some shmuck that owns the place, like its his RIGHT, and we should just roll over and take it?!" She flung her arms wildly about, letting her temper run its course. Or at least run until she had nothing left to lash out at, which with the way this entire day progressed would not be much longer. The exhaustion from before slipped beneath her mind, growing in fervor through her limbs to clench a tight fist around her body. The small traces of anger finally ebbed into a simmer, pooling in her belly to give way for the fear that always trailed a step behind.

With nothing more to do until Sour Bill returned for her, she found her back pressed heavily against a wall, "What am I going to do? What is there even left to do?"

Her world and all she thought she knew fell apart no matter where she stepped. Everyone's lives and safety rested on her choices, as poorly constructed as they were, and the whims of their soon-to-be official oppressor -who no doubt would rather make an all-you-can-eat buffet out of the kingdom.

Vanellope shuddered, sinking low to the ground to rest her head atop her knees. Never in all her life had she felt so completely lost than right now. No one stood to answer her constantly churning questions, or point her in the direction to cure this train wreck from progressing any further. No guidance or instruction what so ever was left on how to properly run a kingdom and it felt no matter which way she turned it always fell into the wrong decision category.

Escape seemed the obvious choice, but what good would that do in the long run? Even if she somehow glitched through these walls, or even made it to Game Central Station, she knew very well eluding capture would do absolutely nothing for those still left behind. If anything, it put them in even MORE danger than before and she, gnawing on her bottom lip, refused to do that to them.

Ducking her head low, she hugged her legs close to her chest, muttering softly, "Stink brain, I wish you were here with me. I wish… how I wish I knew where you were." Even if just to hold her, that's all she asked for.

A knock interrupted her ramblings, jolting her head up immediately to confront who ever stood outside the door. For all she knew it could be Turbo himself come to collect her, causing her stomach to twist even tighter into knots.

Instead, an almost indifferent voice filtered through the door, "Are you decent, madam president?"

The woman sighed in relief, grateful for Sour Bill's return. "About as decent as one can get in this crummy get-up."

The adviser poked his head cautiously through, making double sure she was, indeed, properly attired before shuffling in; wheeling in various boxes and other accessories behind him on a gram cracker cart. He wasted no time flipping open several lids, first and foremost retrieving a brush to set about arranging her appearance. "We don't have a lot of time left."

'Has an hour really flown by that fast?' Vanellope leaned forward, allowing him to glide the brush several times through the tangled mess atop her head. She would've done this task herself had he not already set about attacking the much longer strands like a man gone mad. His hands shook almost as profusely as her own, having to stop several times to regain his composure and pluck out a few, if not all, the candy pieces clinging to her scalp.

Vanellope said not a word as he stroked and sculpted her hair into a flowery bun shape, knowing neither were in the mood for conversation. She whimpered only a few times when he secured her hair with white sprinkle pins, flecking her eyes in his direction when he patted the bun several times to be positively sure it stayed secure. Once he completed that task, he lifted her face up, shedding a sympathetic frown, "I'm going to apply some eye liner now, your presidency…. You'll have to stop crying for that."

"I'll… I'll try…" Putting on a determined face, she swiped at the tears to dispel them while Sour Bill began alternating between each cosmetic. When at last he deemed his duty complete, he stepped back satisfied, nodding in approval, "That should please his majesty."

Vanellope blanched, sticking her tongue out in a disgusted manner, "Gag me with a spoon why dontcha. As if I want to know what he likes."

The assistant placed the last finishing touch's on her wardrobe, parting the lid containing an assortment of rock candy jewelry and riffling through the contents for a few pieces, finally settling on a matching necklace and earrings to compliment her gown.

Vanellope nerved her lip yet again, taking in several deep breaths to help clear the pain slicing inside her chest. "Do you think…" she bit her tongue, finding it hard to speak, "do you think anything can stop this?"

Sour Bill turned his sights towards another box, shaking his head very slowly to help punctuate his words, "I think you need to accept what he said before. No one can help us, he's made sure of it."

"B-but what if someone made it to Game Central Station? I mean, Turbo cant keep track of everyone. The dungeon's only so big and… if that person maybe sorta possibly made it to Fix-it Felix Jr. or something… "

"That's highly unlikely."

"But what if?"

His forehead furrowed, giving her a withering look that wiped away what little hope she still clung to, "There is no way out of Sugar Rush. Not any more. Unless you feel like being melted."

"Whoa whoa. WHOA! Hold up. Did you just say 'melted'? As in-"

"A smoldering pile of code? Yes."

Her jaw quite literally hit the floor. "You gotta be kidding me. What did he DO? Construct some kind of… of death ray while I was out?!"

"More like a fire wall."

Her shoulders sunk even further, limbs becoming nothing more than lifeless stubs dangling off her body. It seemed when ever she thought she held a firm grasp on this new world order, or perhaps understand the rules they now played by, something much darker reared its ugly head. "So… what you're saying is no one comes in or out?" He nodded, "At ALL?"

Once again, Sour Bill confirmed her answers, fidgeting with her veil when she did not cease gaping at him. "And what are we supposed to do if the game gets unplugged?! Just sit here and die? Does he think no ones gonna notice this junked up landscape he's created or HIM for that matter?!"

"I don't know." He half whispered. "I don't know anything any more. Frankly, I don't want to know."

"Sour Bill…"

He silenced her with the veil, handing it up to her while he set about putting the boxes back on the wagon. The haggardness of his appearance intensified as she watched him, his motions small and stiff. How exhausted he must be, to witness all the horrors Turbo unleashed on them and now having to put up with her questions, perhaps reliving the experience all over again.

Vanellope, unable to torment him any further, stood on shaking legs to face the mirror. Setting the last item over her head. The fabric obstructed her view only a little but not enough to see the life diminish from both their eyes.

"We should go now. If we're late-"

"I know." She whispered, taking up the pink wrapper bouquet, "I know."

* * *

A hardened stare fell upon those huddling in the pews, each cowering individual clinging to another, refusing to look at the monster who kept a vigilant watch over them all. Their whimpers were the only thing breaking through the church's eerie stillness, echoing off the walls in a cacophony of intangible noises that resembled what one would imagine found at the gates of hell. Turbo did little but fleck his sights over the crowd, pinching the bridge of his nose in attempts to subdue not only the impatience biting at his heels but also the head ache building against his temples.

If he were smaller, he knew with out a doubt he'd be pacing the rooms length by now. Sadly, he did not have that luxury, or the spirit to stand for this open defiance on that glitch's part.

Reaching into the carapaces neck hole, he rummaged through the space, clenching his digits around a smooth, circular item attached to a red licorice string. The tiny pocket watch clicked open, deepening the tyrants frown immensely. The minute hand already leaned 5 minutes past the hour, a steady rumble igniting within his chest. The sound clattered around his teeth, growing in volume to drown out the resonating sniffles from the onlookers.

In a flick the watch snapped firmly shut, tucking it back inside to give another heated look over his shoulder. Still that impertinent girl did not show, and his willing her to materialize did little but spike his irritation further when it garnered no results.

The racers in the first row drew their knees up quickly, trying to appear nothing more than specks when he slammed one floor shattering foot on the stand, fisting his claws, "It appears our darlin little princess has caught an unfortunate case of cold feet. Hehe, such a pity too."

A guard jostled forward, or more precisely pushed forward by his fellow comrades, hesitantly addressing his master, "W-would you like for us to retrieve her, sire?"

Turbo gave a dismissive wave, humming in disagreement, "That wont be necessary. I did warn her after all. That if she wasn't standing here," a finger pointed to the spot, "in one hour! Ohoo-hoo well…" he spread his arms in a flourish, shrugging his shoulders, "Ce la vie they say. But that does raise the question on what to do with all of you?" His attention spanned across the room, falling dangerously upon the attendee's.

The racers, along with everyone else present, sunk low in their seats, the effort to plead for their lives unable to surface past the debilitating fear imprisoning them. The cybrid swished his tails across the floor, contemplating in the most devious of manners on their unfortunate fates. He had forewarned about the consequences, hadn't he? Perhaps not in all its finest detail but the point itself had been made never the less, or at least he assumed at the time, regardless if he neglected to spell it out entirely.

Still, if this was her decision...

Sweeping his body fully around, he gave a lavished bow to the crowd, shedding the most sickeningly pleasant smile ever to stretch across his face, "I suppose I've gathered you here for nothing, to which I deeply apologize, heh, from the bottom of my heart. You've all been such a wonderful audience, really you have. So deliciously patient. But sadly, it looks like with my intended leaving me standing here at the alter -hoho how embarrassing- it seems you're existence is no longer required." Their cries intensified into a wailing song, egging him on with even more fake sympathy, "I know, I know. It's absolutely tragic." His claw extended over the audience, plucking an unlucky butterscotch child from the sea of tearful faces. "But I find the best cure for the mopeys is a nice," his jaw stretched, "hardy," tongue stretching to tickle under her toes, "meal-"

The orchestra's horns beyond the doors swelled within the chapel, totting the first few chords to the Wedding March.

Turbo's brows puckered, clasping his mouth shut, staring at the entry in utter confusion. Suddenly realization dawned on him, propelling him to drop the child and snap back in place. He set about adjusting his black tie, fiddling with his cufflinks and slicking back his hair, resuming his position beside the reverend to watch the doors sweep open, bathing the room with a brilliance the onlookers could scarcely behold. The light shone from behind a shapely silhouette, outlining a figure that did not, by any standards, resemble their pint sized president in the least. This person before them stood tall, shoulders pulled back and chest heaving rapidly in time with the rising melody from the music.

Turbo blinked several times, almost in disbelief at first, shaking his head multiple times to disperse the blue flecks scattering across his vision. It took every ounce of strength to squelch that foreign urge to plod into the light, his main focus screwing instead on the curvaceous shadow instead.

Lowering a hand he did not know he rose, a soft muttered, "Well milk my duds…" slipped out.

Gasp's all about the room lifted into the rafters, the populace scarcely believing what they saw. This, Vanellope gathered, from their questioning expressions alone, each holding a pondering glaze that mimicked her own when first she beheld her form. The brief flickers of denial gradually slipped into a knowing, if not horrified, revelation for them all, she squaring her shoulders, crunching her fingers around the bouquet to try and keep her head upright and legs from giving out completely. They still throbbed something fierce from her mad dash here, probably spotted with bruises too on how many times she toppled over in those bloody heels. 'But none of that matters now,' she thought, taking a tentative step forward, then another, hobbling to the monster eyeing her up and down.

She couldn't be sure, perhaps the veil distorted the images around her, but she could've sworn the cybrid looked… well… for lack of a better word, flabbergasted. His lips flowed over several words, soft murmurings that were almost indistinguishable due to the music's rising crescendo, and perhaps she'd misheard what sounded like "beautiful" emit from him too. Either way, she glowered, nostrils flaring when his befuddled expression transformed into the typical patronizing sneer.

She took the final step towards the alter, standing side by side to his imposing form. It bothered her greatly to see that even though she'd been upgraded to a new, taller avatar, she still didn't reach any where near past his foreleg. Heck, she doubted she made it half way.

A hand motion from Turbo broke the finale notes for the orchestra, deadening the air to an eerie silence. Not even the audience made a sound to defy his command, the reverend, who Vanellope noted to be Bearded Papa in a suit, hastily thumbed through his book; stuttering his lines to the point they were nothing short of incoherent rambles.

She found it cruelly ironic that not a day prior to this she stood on a similar platform, listening to a similar sermon, at a similar church. But that wedding had not been oozing with the despondent feeling this one possessed. This was a cold place devoid of the fond memories and warmth she knew before. This held no happily-ever-after endings for the daring princess.

Vanellope cast her orbs to the side, glowering at the insectoid leg with all the fire coursing through her code. Was happiness really to much to ask for? Was it really such an elusive thing that someone like her could never fully grasp it? She'd gone 15 years without so much as a kind word directed her way and now, when all began to look brighter, when the rain clouds finally parted after years of being nothing more than a blemish in this game, that same foreboding storm came back with a vengeance, raining down its cruelty and multiplying it ten fold.

And that, it seemed, would always be her lot.

What she did to deserve this fate, Vanellope didn't know. The pain in her chest grew near to unbearable as the world, and all it's burdens, bore down on her like a sledge hammer driving down a nail. It suddenly felt to much, her mind spinning, her insides churning, the blue pixels dispersing around her quivering shoulders, trying to hold back the sudden sob rising up her throat.

She covered her mouth, trying to push the noise back into her belly before it surfaces. Sadly, she failed in that endeavor, releasing it in a hiccup that broke Reverend Papa from his monologue. His weary expression softened for the girl who did not deserve this life, reaching a gentle hand out in attempts to somehow reassure her, even in the slightest, that all would be alright. But one glance upward and he quickly thought twice on the matter, the giant clearing his throat, his voice dripping with a dandy poison, "We don't have all day, reverend. So could you kindly keep your paws to yourself and **SPEED IT UP** a bit? Hoho, I'd be much obliged."

Both Sugar Rush characters flinched from the cybrid's outburst, Bearded Papa promptly returning to his book while Vanellope faltered a bit on her legs.

She'd yet to reclaim the strength to set them straight, and taking a step back became a huge mistake on her part. Her ankle twisted and, propelling her over the raised platform. Had a steadying hand not righted her that instant, she knew with out a doubt she would be laying belly up on the ground, most likely with a bruised and/or cracked back to worry about.

That seemed the least of her concerns, she clasping tight to the support, relieved for the small comfort it offered. Shedding a thankful smile to Bearded Papa, the sentiment soon slipped away, a haunting realization running her through when she noticed the older man still rooted in place. In fact, he never even paused in his monologue, causing her to jerk her head around so fast she swore she gave herself whiplash.

The color drained completely from her skin, her hand flying from the claw still latched around her shoulders. The president made quick work in righting her posture, slipping the heels off to fully regain her bearings. Yet despite how she braced her feet, or trembled to do so with his cold touch spread across her skin, he still did not release his hold nor lift it. If anything it firmed, dragging her back a step so that they now stood only a mere inch from the other.

She chanced a glance up his arms length, grumbling a bit under breath, completely unnerved when her eyes beheld not that of King Candy's visage, but the skeletal retro racer himself. Those piercing yellow orbs ran her through, wracking over her person until red binary flickered over his sights, finally encasing his helmet to secure the monarchs countenance in place.

She didn't know what that was about, and frankly she didn't really want to know. But suddenly she found Turbo shaking her, jerking his head down in Reverend Papa's direction. "O-oh, uh… what?" 'Real smooth, Vanellope.'

"D-d-do, er you, P-president Vanellope Von Schweetz, t-take his majesty, Ki-ing C-Cand-"

"King TURBO." The bug amended.

"Ah…. Ah yes uh… f-forgive me, sire. His royal ma-majesty King Turbo, as your lawfully wedded hu-husband?"

'Do I have a choice?' One hesitant look upwards confirmed that she did not, for he lifted one finger from her shoulder, tracing it along her throat.

Vanellope pursed her lips, "I-I suppose…yeah."

"What was that, sweetheart? I don't think everyone heard you."

Scowling at the creature, she steeled her tone, fidgeting under his palm, "I said 'YES'! Even if it's the most vile, nasty, grossgusting thing I've ever had to do in my entire li-"

"Ah, what precious vows. My darling has such a way with words."

She had half a mind to crack her foot into his leg.

Before she got so much as a shriek out in protest, Reverend Papa quickly butted in, "AND do you, his majesty, King Turbo, take President Vanellope Von-?"

"Yes yes, get on with it."

"Then I… I mean, the rings, p-please."

Sour Bill ushered forth, bowing low with a marshmallow pillow turned up. Tucking the smallest ring pop between his claws, the cybrid stooped over his blushing bride, hand outstretched for her to take.

"Yeah?" She gritted, frowning at the pink rock, then back at him, folding her arms across her chest.

He waggled the finger it rested on, purring almost seductively, "Put it on."

Vanellope felt the hairs on her neck raise, tugging away, or at least trying to, "Why? We're practically married anyway. That hunk of rock isn't going to make a lick of difference."

"Practically and completely are two very different things -hoho. And you're going to do it because I told you to. Now," his torso bent even further, pressing the object under her nose, "stop being difficult and put it on… or I'll do it for you. The choice is entirely up to you."

The defiance flared in her veins like liquid fire, firming her jaw against his demand. Choice? CHOICE?! He dare say she had a choice in all this? She opened her mouth to tell him exactly where he could shove that ugly piece of junk when suddenly, seeing she'd made her decision, he snatched at her wrist, "Fine. If you want to do things the hard way, then I'll gladly oblige."

"GAH! What are you…? Stop! Stop it!" She swatted at him repeatedly, yanking with all her might in the opposite direction. "You're hurting me, you idiot!"

"Then be a good girl and stop squirming." He somehow managed to slip it on before she gave any further protest, releasing her to fall in a heap of legs and skirts. Thankfully she didn't go over the alter's edge, but that didn't distract from the fact she'd fallen and now, struggling to surface from all the ruffles smothering her, she managed to spot the pompous gob stopper slip his own ring on, a self satisfied smirk contorting his lips.

He motioned for Bearded Papa to continue.

"Then, by the p-power vested in me-"

"And if nobody objects." Turbo sang, swinging his attention towards the audience who had not made so much as a peep the entire procession. Vanellope, on the other hand, sputtered trying to sit up, "I object on the grounds that you're coo coo crazy!"

"-I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now…uh… kissthebride."

"Don't mind if I do," Turbo's face practically lit up like Christmas, rubbing his claws together, unleashing a dark chortle that shook the newly christened Queen until she felt it's effect trickle down to her code. "No! D-don't you even think about it, buster."

Oh, he didn't just think about it. She saw it painted all over his putrid face that he fully intend to… to…

Vanellope struggled anew, fighting against his hold and, when hefted up by her waist, screamed bloody murder, thrashing like a rabid hell cat to escape. Her code sparked viciously, kicking at his chest, his neck, anywhere in order to keep those lips from touching hers. 'I WILL NOT KISS HIM I WILL NOT KISS HIM I WONT I WONT NO WAY NADA GONNA HAPPEN!'

A chest leg parted the veil, fully revealing her pale, fear-stricken features in all it's near cherubic glory. That sadistic leer intensified as he drank in her appearance, lowering his head even further to study the masterpiece in its entirety. A possessiveness sparkling behind those soulless eyes swelled, this the woman felt down to her marrow when he tilted her chin just so, fixated on those puffy ruby lips that pouted so prettily for him. "Mmhehe. You heard the man. It's time to pucker up, buttercup."

She tried to shake her head, opening her mouth to scream "NO!"! She soon became silenced when those large, intrusive lips enveloped her own, sucking the air clean out of her.

Gagging on instinct, Vanellope curled fingers around his cheeks, scratching, pushing, and even slapping to get him off. Sadly, he never so much as pulled away, bracing her head with one finger as he delved even deeper into the moist cavern, practically purring the entire time.

GOD she could taste him! Literally TASTE the vile (ok, it was more like licking a caramel apple if she had to describe it) tongue slide around her teeth. Tears prickled against her vision, the air growing harder and harder to draw in.

At long last, unable to take the assault any more, she resorted in biting down. Hard! Ecstatic beyond measure when he squawked in pain, rearing his neck back to suck his tongue back in.

He coiled the muscle several times, fixing her with a dark look that held an even darker promise to it. "That wasn't very nice."

"Neither was shoving your tongue half way down my throat. I think…oh Pong, I think I'm gonna barf."

He held her out at arm's length, rolling his eyes heavenward. The way she spat on the floor, hacking and groaning about being infected with his cooties -and how she may kill over from the gross factor alone- the virus dropped her unceremoniously into the awaiting arms of the guards, having quite about enough of her dramatics for one evening.

To see her land on her toosh did liven his spirits thought, exchanging his once sour expression for the sinister sugar coated bubbliness. "Hooho, I'm afraid it's something you'll have to get used to. Because that one," he waggled a suggestive brow, "wont be your last."

Vanellope blanched on the spot, burrowing into the oreo's open arms, covering her mouth as if to ward off any further advances on his part. "You're crazy."

"That is a matter of opinion. NOW!" he clapped his hands, hopping in place excitedly to address those still attending and, most importantly, the little racers who shared in their disgust with the former president, "With the ceremony finally concluded, I believe it's high time we celebrated my good fortune… with a random roster race! HooHAAhah." Spreading his arms out wide, and balancing on his two right legs -each buckling under the weight- the guards stationed on either side of the pews clicked their staffs on the ground, signaling for the attendee's to stand and depart post haste.

The racers were first to be escorted out, clasping tight to one another, sending pleading , if not sympathetic looks in Vanellope's direction. She of course tried to follow, that task being near impossible when the oreo's around her held fast, keeping her locked in place. "Hey, get off you…! Turbo!" The giant righted himself, tilting his head in what she assumed to be an innocent way. "Tell these cream puffs to let me go."

"And _why_ would I do that?"

Bristling, "Because I don't plan on standing around here," with you! " all day and letting you torment my friends is the last thing I plan to see happen. I have a responsibility to them-"

"Oh yes, and what a magnificent job you've done with that too." He gave a slow, mocking applause, "But you tend to forget, I need racers for tomorrows event. And what better way to test out my newly improved race track than with your _lovely_ friends?"

"Wha… but why would you-?" A fear much more powerful than before seized her, the threat that should one of them get hurt, OR KILLED, would not be coming back. "No… no please don't make them race! Turbo!"

"_King_ Turbo. There's a _KING_ in there somewhere."

"How can you do this to them? To anyone?! You've taken away their ability to respawn for Atari's sake!"

His smile only darkened, preening, "I know. Ingenious, isn't it? Makes the game all the more interesting when you take the safety net away."

"But they're just kids for crying out loud. The only reason I married you was to keep them and everyone else safe!"

"Hoho, I don't recall mincing terms. Besides, you were going to marry me regardless, willing," his claw slid under her chin, "or not."

Vanellope drew away, trying to restrain the temper seeping like acid into her words, "Turbo…" His brow arched, and as much as it pained her to do it, she smothered her voice in the same fake gooeyness he'd used before, "Your _majesty_. Please be reasonable. Surely you have a smidgeon of sympathy in your code somewhere. And it wouldn't be wise to kill off those that are essential to the game." She fluttered her lashes, hoping against hope the cute affect still applied to this womanly body.

For a moment she caught her breath believing it did, the cybrid rubbed at his chin, pondering the topic with a thoughtful hum. But then in a blink he folded his claws behind his back, laughing at her shattered expression, "Nah. Let's take a note from those goody two shoe friends of yours and 'stick to the programming.' MY programming that is, hoohooohoo."

'Of course it wouldn't work! Of course of course OF COURSE! YOU LOW DOWN SON OF AAAAARGH!'

"I cant believe how selfish and cruel and stupid you are. You're no ruler, you're a low life piece of-!"

He jerked her up so fast Vanellope felt her stomach left somewhere on the floor, she biting her lip, drawing back as far as she could when his fangs clacked inch's from her nose. Red binary rippled from crown to chin, and for a brief second she saw those haunting yellow eyes narrow spitefully into her core, shredding the defiance she once held into nothing. "Now you listen and you listen good, you worthless little _glitch_. What I do to this game is MY business. YOU have no say in this matter **AT ALL**! And if you continue to think you can usurp MY authority or sway MY decisions," his fist tightened ruthlessly, producing a silent, tear soaked scream, "I'll gladly set you straight. Do I make myself clear?"

Her code fizzled, staring up at him helplessly.

"DO I?!"

"… y-yes…"

That soft resignation seemed to help calm him some, for the rigidness in his posture relaxed, his grip lessening so she once again regained the ability to breath. "Good. Because I will warn you right now, sweetheart, I loath repeating myself. Should you force me to continue doing so, well," he patted the disheveled bun on her head, setting her back in the guards possession as if the outburst never occurred.

His giddiness returned soon after, the familiar grunt from the kart engines reverberated into the chapel, painting a cheerier mood for him at least. "Sounds like they're playing my song boys. Would you all be a couple of dears and show the misses to some place comfortable. Oh, and do be sure she stays there. Use the chains if you must. We wouldn't want our new queen getting lost in some place she aught not be."

The oreo's saluted, clanking their spears and tugging her towards the exit. To where, Vanellope didn't know. Nor did she care at this point. So long as it was far far away from that monster, she'd gladly follow them into the fungeon; which she assumed they were taking her anyway.

If only she knew.

If only...

* * *

A/N: Finished! PRAISE JESUS IT'S ANOTHER CHAPTER DONE! Extra long for those of you patient enough to wait on me. I just want to start off and say thank you to everyone for your reviews, they make my day and always urge me to write more. If not for you guys, I'd probably have been discouraged long ago so again, thank you to everyone for your kinds words.

On another note, I think I'll also be bumping this story rating to "T" just to be on the safe side. I'm still trying to keep this fairly clean -laughs at own self- but we don't know what the future may hold in a "honeymoon" chapter; to which may be posted on my tumblr account when the time comes for that.

So I hope everyone enjoys this and don't be afraid to leave your thoughts in the review.

PS: For those that were interested in the pictures, I'm on Tumblr under the name tanglebox. Pay no attention to the Transformers and monster men stuff I reblog. post/45957229045/this-is-actually-a-spoiler-for-my-upcoming-fanfic


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 6

In a blur Vanellope found herself swept through a various series of hallways, the doors, the faces, the portraits all flying by, smearing into an intangible image she scarcely knew how to pick apart. Each passageway seemed to lengthen far into the distance, turning in a honeycomb maze that held little to no end to it. Their destination became less and less clear the further they journeyed and she, for the life of her, couldn't pinpoint where exactly they were going.

Every so often the entourage shifted down a new passageway, one whose furniture grew in comparison to the rest and expanded well past the darkness encompassing them. The scones on the walls cast a very dim path, hardly giving any clue to their location and she half believed the guards only knew their way around by memory alone. Not that she knew this castle frontward's and back herself even before Turbo's redecorating, but still she wondered how they managed to keep a steady pace with nothing but a few pools of light to guide them.

And to where was the even bigger question.

Originally she assumed his royal crude face planned on imprisoning her indefinitely in the fungeon. It seemed a proper place to stick someone in her position, especially if they'd already served their purpose. But one look around only prompted her to gnash at her lip feverishly, aware no matter how you cut it, this most certainly was NOT the way to the fungeon.

Not once had they sank below the castles lower levels, heightening her anxiety to a fine point. If Turbo had no further use for her, and she certainly held nothing else to give him but sass, then that only left one alternative for her future.

"Death."

Vanellope's feet suddenly stumbled a step or two, the rubberiness at the chapel returning, filling her mind and limbs with an overwhelming sense of dread.

A multitude of nameless tortures rattled in her skull and she, coming to a grinding halt, stood unsure whether to crumble to the floor in a heap or take off running from whence they came. "N-no, I don't… I mean I…" she back peddled so quickly she nearly toppled over those bringing up the rear, "Please, please no. I cant do this. Guys, really. It's been a blast b-but, I… er… think I left the stove on or something. Yep, 74% sure on that. So I should, ya know," pointing and trotting backwards, "go check on it. Like right now, heh."

A guard quickly caught her elbow, foiling that escape attempt. "Your majesty, you know I cant allow that."

"Then… would you believe I have to go to the bathroom. Like RE-EALLY bad. I mean, I've been standing for ever and my itty bitty bladder is bout to burst. So maybe we could put this whole "execution" thing on hold. At least for a little while, am I right? … guys?"

His hold tightened, accompanied by another that saw fit to take up her other arm. 'I guess that answers that.'

Vanellope twisted a bit, dismayed that not only did these chumps have the grip of a grizzly bear but also proceeded to drag her the final lap around the corner -regardless on how valiantly she dug her heels in- until at long last they turned the final corner, reaching their destination.

Her fear shifted under the surface, her eyes settling on what appeared to be a single, solitary door lost in a black frame. Nothing peculiar stood out about it, other than how ordinary and strangely small it appeared. At least smaller that what one would assume to find in this monstrous hallway.

A pause hung heavily between the group before Vanellope yanked her arms free, glaring at the one who fished a key from his sleeve, "Ok, I'm gonna be straight with ya'll. I've put up with being dragged around like a flour sack, worn heels for the first time in my life and probably twisted both ankles while doing it. I'm even wearing this freaking mess, got hitched to that butt munching psychopath and I've done all this pretty gracefully. So it would be really nice… if you cut a girl some slack… and NOT cart me into that room as if its no big deal to lop my mother loving head off."

"Your majesty, our orders were to-"

"No no NO! I don't give a flying fig what they are! In fact I've had it up to HERE with what that creep has to say. I just… I… ARGH!" She stomped her foot, crossing her arms and in the process of falling stubbornly on the ground when the guards cleared their throats, "You're grace, it's not what you think it is. I swear."

"Really? Because this doesn't look like the fungeon. And trust me when I say I've been there plenty of times to know my way around it."

"Our commands were to take you some place comfy-"

"WHICH IS THE FUNGEON! Comfy is code for fungeon. Now I may not be the brightest bulb in the shed but I know what king cavity implies when he says that. Believe me, I know the routine by now. So if you haven't taken me there, then where is this? W-where are we? Please…" her hysterics quietly dwindled, falling into faint whispers that she became amazed they even heard, "You're going to kill me?"

"Your majesty, please."

"Are you?" Trembling in place, she practically felt their pity permeate from their creamy cores. Her breathing grew erratic, clutching at her throat imaging the chop block waiting on the other side. "I-I know I wasn't a great president, b-but still… ya gotta cut me some slack. No wait! Don't cut! Don't even think about cutting!"

"We have our orders. Now please… don't make us get rough with you."

"We don't want it to come to that." Another piped, extending a hand in a gentle manner.

Vanellope didn't want to cooperate. She didn't want to face what ever laid beyond for she didn't believe she held the courage to do so any more. The well she once derived all her strength stood as little more than an empty, withered shell of its former self. And Turbo… he had taken that from her. He had purposely pilfered everything -her friends, her courage, her freedom- in one foul swoop, leaving nothing save the skeletal remains of what once stood as hope.

But even then that tiny spark fell short, dwindling the longer she stood with her back to the entry way, unwilling and unable to confront what ever stood behind it.

Sucking in a deep breath, she tried one last time, suspecting her efforts were useless, "I guess bribing you is out of the question."

"I'm afraid so, your grace. Our loyalty, regretfully, belongs to the king." Her shoulders sunk, "Now please, for everyone's sake…" the strain in his voice carried an immense weight on it, solemn and resigned. It became obvious he did not enjoy his task any more than she wanted him to carry it out, her head bobbing in silent resignation. What ever happened, there was no way to avoid. Not without placing those she vowed to protect in harms way.

Thoughts from before surfaced, echoing her voice across the silence, 'You're the president, no matter what any one says, so it's time to start acting like it.' If this was to be her final sacrifice, then so be it.

Righting her posture, Vanellope closed her eyes, sucking in one final breath. If tonight be the night she danced with death, then by golly she would try to do it with dignity. 'You're still the president.' She reaffirmed, tilting her chin up, "Lets get this over with."

"As you wish, your majesty." The group helped to spin her about, managing to usher her through the arch way without much difficulty. What she didn't expect was the tiny shove that followed, spilling inside to nearly kiss the ground. The woman had half a mind to chew them a new one for it too, righting herself just in time and preparing her tongue to do so… only to fall short when she whirled to se naught but empty air.

The door slammed just when she opened her mouth, clicking softly, the lock clacking to cage her within. "Wha? Wait a minute! What are you doing?" Beating a fist on the door, she squinted hard at it when no answer came, hitting it several more times, "Hey! I don't mean to alarm you but I think ya might've forgot something." 'Like killing me dead or something along those lines.'

She pressed her ear to the polished surface, able to make out a few scuffling sounds and then, "I'm afraid that wasn't our orders," came a muffled response, "If you had allowed us to finish our sentences, we were to escort you to some place comfortable… to rest. Please enjoy your night." amazed to find everything she once predicted to be housed within this room shattered.

Ok, if her jaw wasn't already settled on the ground, she knew it would have certainly hit it with great force. For a moment she hardly knew how to formulate a response, simply standing there, mesmerized. And suddenly her voice returned full force, bellowing incredulously, "I cant believe I almost crapped myself over this and you didn't even say a word. Not. One. Comforting. Word! You… YOU GUYS ARE A BUNCH OF GAPPING BUTT HOLES!"

A soft, "Goodnight, your majesty," came as their only reply and she, unable to mask her embarrassment, stepped back in attempts to suppress her laughter.

Nothing truly terrifying resided in here, aside from her wedding dress. In fact, as far as she could discern by evaluating the chamber, nothing save a loan dresser and staircase stood to greet her, baffling the woman beyond comprehension. Well, she supposed she should refrain from completely giving Turbutt's any credit. The ever present darkness encompassing this new world did not spare itself from entering this room, filling it almost completely were it not for the dressers lamp.

Vanellope took a hesitant step forward, approaching the furniture warily, eyes flickering about the near empty space just in case. For all she knew there could be a trap door hiding just a careless step away, waiting for someone foolish enough to trigger it.

'No, stop! Don't you dare let your imagination run away with you again! The crumb heads said it was safe, so stop thinking there's a chain chomp around every corner and just go to the dresser. SHEESH!' Firming her resolve, she did just that, albeit making a mad dash but still she came upon the hard shelled furnishing with out a scratch. To her growing relief, it seemed it was also fully stocked with all the essentials she would need too. Her hand danced over the many folded items until finally settling on a teal green nightgown laced with -what else?- pink ruffles.

"UGH! This keeps getting worse and worse by the minute." Still… she found it infinitely better than the gown, regardless on its shorter length, quickly stripping down to her under things to slip it on. A massive sigh whispered through her teeth, relieved to have it's loose, silky texture kiss her skin as it cascaded down her hips. Her fingers fiddled with the hem, smoothing it out and failing tremendously to make it longer. More leg than she cared to show poked out the bottom, but she supposed that would have to do.

"It aint like I'll be running around the castle in it any time soon." Her head dropped a fraction, the hands that once tugged on the material stilling when that statement further sank in. Indeed, she didn't know if she would be running around the castle at ALL after this. She could very well be imprisoned indefinitely if Turbo had his way, and she very much gathered that is exactly what he had in mind too. Not that she couldn't simply zip through the walls should the desire arise, but what would she do once she did managed to snag a small taste of freedom?

Bunching the material, the woman seated herself on the first step, sinking her chin into her palm, her thoughts churning against themselves. "So Vannie, tell us. Now that you've gotten yourself hitched to the most pukesgusting bachelor in town, what do you plan on doing now?" The announcer voice she used shifted back into her own, flippantly replying, "Oh I don't know Bob, maybe I'll just stay here for a while. Take up a few hobbies, solve world hunger, see Disney world. No big deal, right?" Tears prickled behind her eyes, stinging her nose until her hands swooped up to cover it. "Yeah Vannie… no big deal." Her shoulders tensed suddenly, a loud BOOM striking against the castles outer walls, followed by the unmistakable revving from distant kart engines and -god help her- screams.

Her body instantly shot up, circling around the stairs and nearly falling over herself as she tried to rush past an obstruction -that strangely felt like dangling fabric- her arms outstretched to maneuver around, eventually finding herself falling haphazardly into a deep inky nothingness on the other side. She blinked several times, unable to see clearly the gray shapes that surrounded her, dismayed that not even her glitchs helped to illuminate the area.

But fear and desperation fueled her, batting away her disorientation to gallop head long into the pitch, stopping short only when her hands met an unseen obstacle. She gritted her teeth, following it's path until another, what she guessed to be a wall, prevented any further movement. Again she followed it, stomach dropping to hear an even closer boom shake the castles foundation, startling her even more to actually feel it ripple through her bones. "Come on come ON!" she hissed, stumbling and pressing to find a window, a door, SOMETHING!

She had half a mind to glitch her head through just for a peek, stopping short only when the humming sounds faded off into the distance. The woman's movements ground to a dead halt, her heart fluttering, then sinking to her toes when at long last their echoes were no more. They were gone, perhaps miles away by now. 'Or worse…'

That same nauseas feeling from long ago sloshed in the pit of her stomach, intensifying to such an overwhelming degree she no longer held the capacity to chew it down. In one mighty heave, the contents she still held splattered all over the floor, the smell so overpowering she continued to expel herself. The taste alone prompted her to gag further, spitting and hacking until she had nothing left to give. She wiped at her mouth, her nose, her legs wobbling under the stress and finally, after taking a simple step back to right her balance, gave out entirely, sending her careening several feet from the mess.

Vanellope did nothing to prevent the fall. In fact she welcomed it when her head smacked hard against the floor. The pain itself did not pierce through her ponderings, if anything it only relieved the emotional turmoil lacing through her code, her thoughts dancing between wakefulness and a dream-like slumber. A few stray questions flew through her mind, wondering if she were to forever be a bird in a cage, if she would ever see her friends and -dare she even dream- family again, would she even live beyond this night?

The answers were elusive things, straying beyond her touch as she rolled her head to the side, staring blearily at the ring on her finger. "At least… you had those 3 precious weeks. 3 weeks of… being a racer. Of knowing what it felt like… to be something special to someone…" What ever became of anyone, the racers, Ralph, the Fix-its, she doubted she'd ever know…

And dreaded finding the truth.

Her lashes fluttered one last time, tucking her arms close as the haziness finally over took her, clasping her into sleeps sweet embrace perhaps for the last time.

* * *

"Ooooh! There's a great big BEAUTIFUL tomorrow-" The off key melody alerted the guards immediately to their master's approach, his clacking steps growing in volume, the songs off key melody plucking along his lips.

Within a few short steps the frolicking monstrosity came into view, practically kicking up his heels and spreading his arms wide when the last few notes were bellowed. He stood there expectantly, the span of 10 seconds ticking by with utter silence reigning between the lot, and after 10 seconds more, Turbo's impatience materialized. He cleared his throat, the razzle dazzle smile he once shed dripping, leaving nothing but his incisors to show behind his frown.

They hastily sprung into action, applauding the performance -whether they enjoyed it or not- grateful when their master righted himself, "Ah thank you, thank you. Oh please stop, hoohoohoo. This is to much." Turbo pulled back further, practically beaming from all the attention. After a few more seconds he eventually gave to ok for them to stop, fluffing his tie and refocusing his attention more towards the door, a strange, frightening gleam twinkling in his eyes, "Now tell me, how is my wittle dumpling holding up? I hope she hasn't caused to much trouble."

"Er… n-no sire, she's been very quiet for the past hour or so."

"Really?" that took him back a bit. "Did you restrain her?"

"No sire. She did not put up a fight."

"Heh, odd… but hey, who am I to complain?" He suddenly flicked his wrist, parting the guards to the side to reach for a much higher, almost hidden knob sticking out above their heads. A simple twist from the latch and the wall, or what once appeared to be one, gave way, sliding against its hinges to reveal it for the massive door that it was, taking with it the smaller one built into it. His form squeezed through to the other side, quick and quiet like, waving his fingers at guards on passing, "I think I can manage things from here, gentlemen."

The cybrid didn't wait for a response, shutting the door with an ever growing, ever harrowing grin slithering across his features. A slow swivel from his neck brought him about face to the staircase, leering at it longingly and practically rubbing his claws together, "Oh sthweety pie, are you still awake?"

No answer came, not surprising in the least to him but it hardly diminish his spirits; especially when he spotted a particular wedding dress left discarded on the ground. The cybrid's smile crinkled around his eyes, he bounding up to the stairs, giddy and giggling softly, his fingers connecting with a curtain that, on closer inspection, attached itself to the top part of a very large canopy bed. In one sweep he pulled the fabric aside, excitedly singing, "Ready or not, he-ere's hubby."

Striking a debonair pose, his face lit up… only to fall shortly after when nothing besides the decorative pillows welcomed him. His eyes roamed up and down the beds length, brows furrowing when nothing, not even a wrinkle, presented itself to him.

Lowering his arms, he quickly yanked up several marshmallow cushions, checking under everyone, big or small, before training his thoughts elsewhere, wracking his brain for any possible places she might be hidden behind. Pushing the rollaway staircase aside, the cybrid king fell to all fours, or sixes, slightly hoisting the beds frame from the ground to check under.

Nothing.

"Dearest? As much as I'd love to entertain you with another rousing game of hide and seek, the hour is late and I'd much rather spend our time doing more "productive" things tonight." Still no answer came, heightening the steadily building unease resting along his mind. The growing suspicion that she no longer resided within this room escalated significantly, his annoyance simmering below the surface, hastening his efforts to locate her post haste.

"Perhaps It would've been wiser to lock you up after all. Would you prefer that, honey bunch? A nice, cozy little cage to call your own? It'll have all the finest things money can buy, so long as I'm still feeling generous." Lowering himself further to the ground, his upper arms swatted at the furniture, dashing them aside as if they weighed next to nothing; his mood growing increasingly more violent for every second she did not materialize.

The friendly mask he wore gradually dissolved into red binary, flickering between the two visages before permanently shifting to the gray faced racer. His fangs gnashed, swiveling his luminescent sights about's the room, practically spitting, "My patience is running thin, hehe. Rest assured that if you think you can hide from me, I WILL find you, dumpling." His scowl hardened, "Even if I have to TEAR THIS GAME APART TO DO IT!" And should she not be here… those guards would not be the only ones to meet their ends tonight.

A soft, almost inaudible mumble whispered into his ears, dropping his hold on a trunk, 'There you are!'

Charging towards the sound, a small lump became more apparent the closer he drew, tucked into a far off corner almost completely hidden underneath a titanic sized night stand. His claws retracted, ready to snatch up the little chit and possibly pop her head off for all the trouble she caused him this evening. Yet when he at last came upon the curled form, hand poised above her head, a hair length away from wrenching her from the floor, the anger that once spiked beyond comprehension trickled into a stagnated pool, receding back into his essence and giving further pause to his actions.

A blue flash briefly wavered over his vision, calming him just enough to realize she was not purposely ignoring him, nor had she escaped into the wild blue yonder -to his relief. The steady rise and fall from her chest, the soft snores, confirmed her to be asleep; the irritation in his expression alleviating just enough to cover his teeth.

His neck extended, lowering so that her features came fully into view. The yellow glow enhancing her ashy complexion, looking almost sickly as it skimmed along her face, then downward, using his still extended hand to poke at her shoulder, "I see you've made yourself at home. If I had known you'd prefer the floor, I would've set down some news papers, hoohoo." The laughter died down once a strange, pungent odor filled his nostrils, he recoiling, making a BLEK sound.

It didn't take a genius to deduce where the smell originated from, or what that mystery puddle next to her happened to be, the cybrid scooting from it, sticking his tongue out in disgust, "I swear, I cant leave you alone for one minute without you making a mess of things. I expected better from my queen."

Her lips pouted, tugging her limbs even closer to herself when he spoke. Turning over, she mumbled, "5 more minutes," slinging one arm around his finger while the other tucked itself under her chin. To say this startled the virus was an understatement. His claw lingered in her hold, and he, for the most part, found himself sinking to the floor, tilting his head curiously.

"Now isn't this an interesting development?" He whooped, cheekily bringing his other hand to her hip, "I knew you couldn't resist my good looks forever, darling."

Vanellope continued to paw, finding no comfort in his hold or the ground, fussing and moaning when he steadied her, "A tut tut tut, you stop that. There's nothing wrong with being attracted to me. I'm a sthtud muffin after all." Still she wiggled beneath his palm, kicking her legs out and, heaven help her, flashing a great deal more leg than necessary. The nightgown practically rode up to her waist, and had he not kept his pinky over the hem, would most definitely be showing more skin than she'd be comfortable with.

Turbo removed his finger to help straighten it out, covering her thighs again with an awkward smile. "I'm used to women throwing themselves at my feet, but this is ridiculous. Control yourself madam."

Vanellope tossed the other way, spinning her back towards him and, had he not stopped her, would've kept rolling into her vomit.

Crinkling his nose, the cybrid gently wedged his digits underneath her shoulders, hooking his others beneath her knees, scooping her up to settle against his chest, clucking his tongue as he stood, "Alright I can take a hint. That's enough banter for today. Clearly you're to overwhelmed with my dashing good looks to hold a proper conversation."

In no time he rounded towards their bed, using one of his many limbs to rearrange the pillows just so, fluffing and setting them almost in a nest-like fashion. It took him a few seconds before he realized this, snapping out of his stupor to place them properly in line, pulling back the covers and gently laying her within it's folds.

He silently scrambled atop her, sinking the cushions on either side with his weight as he made up his own sleeping arrangements. Once he deemed it acceptable, he finally teeter to his left, falling with a satisfied UMF when his nose sunk into the softness. Ah yes, how he'd missed sleeping in a bed, surrounded by comfort not known in the wilderness. The time spent lurking in caves, plotting his coup d'état and living off the land had not left him a very happy virus. Indeed, the krinks alone were enough to make his life insufferable; even for a body that did not feel sensations as it once did before, it did not excuse how hard the ground could be at times nor how much his joints ached trying to find a less painful position. But now, with the game under his thumb and it's sentient creations at his mercy, all the worlds luxuries were finally in reach.

His wing numbs flittered at that idea, dragging the marshpillows softness closer to his cheek and purring contently into them. If it weren't so late he'd be kicking his legs in excitement, bouncing on the mattress and staying up until the arcade opened. But…

A wondering eye fell over his newly appointed queen, he pitching his body to the side, smirking. That roaming finger dangled within her reach again, skimming down her throat, her collar bone, dipping until it traveled the length of her curves, smoothing out the gowns bottom yet again. That blasted thing seemed determined to ride up no matter how careful he laid her out, watering his mouth when those perfectly sculpted legs slipped along his talon, begging him to touch.

Turbo half wondered if they tasted as creamy as they looked, the sudden inexplicable urge to find out bashed against his reservation, clawing against his skull for him to sample the sweet forbidden fruit.

Subconsciously he leaned forward, drawn to the subtle warmth she exuded, his breath caressing her flushed cheeks, fluttering her hair when he at last no more distance between stood them. Tilting her chin, the moment his lips nearly grazed over her own he stopped, expression souring, leaping back from the revolting vomit smell still clamoring to her open, drool ridden mouth.

Heaving slightly, the cybrid had to forcefully chew back his own juices, a green tint spreading along his complexion. "Ok, definitely time to call it a night… -gag- before I… -retch-"

Chocking back the disgust, he turned her over the other way, working his many limbs to drag the cotton candy blankets over them and finally, at long last, settling in for the night. It wasn't exactly how he planned to spend it, what with a comatose, puke stinky spouse and all, but he couldn't grumble to much. Mostly everything had gone swimmingly, perhaps a few bumps arose but it certainly hadn't strayed to far off course; the end result being all the same no matter how he cut it. So with that said and done, he certainly couldn't complain. Not when he tucked his lovely prize against his chin, burying his nose into her hair -that smelt strangely of whipped cream and vanilla pudding- sighing blissfully for the first time in nearly a month.

The tension in his body melted away, wrapping completely around the woman's body, whispering, "Mine… you, my dear, are finally… all… mine."

* * *

A/N: So... I suppose I'll just keep writing long chapters since it seem's I lack the discipline to keep them short. Any way, I kinda like how this came out, especially when we finally get to see a little from Turbo's point of view. He's a tricky guy to figure out, let me tell you, with that duel personality and never really knowing if he's going to fly off his rocker or just laugh something off. Thankfully he wasn't to upset she didn't wait up for him, wearing nothing but whip cream.

The idea was tempting.

R/R my friends. This writer is now going to collapse in a corner and recuperate for a million years now.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 7**

Like a dense fog the gray edges around her vision slowly dissipated, bringing with it a vague awareness that trickled down her limbs, releasing them from the numbness that once weighed so heavily. Her limpness became little more than an abating memory, her consciousness returning to the for front of her mind and spinning on it's head to catch up with itself.

Vanellope swatted away the last dreamy traces from her eyes, unable to recall any clear detail within those inanimate lapses but aware they left a foul taste in her mouth. Or perhaps that had to do with the vomit from earlier that night.

She smacked her lips together, twisting her body one way, then the other, put off a little by the aches still clinging to her body and hissing even more when the throb inside her skull steadily increased.

Dragging a hand through her hair, the woman gritted her teeth to feel a fairly big goose egg resting on the back, her mind riddled with a sudden bout of confusion over the ordeal. A faint whisper tickled along her brain, weaving and bobbing through the painful waves surrounding it, plucking across the proper strings that at long last struck a cord with her.

The wedding, the racers, the fall! They all came swimming back, jumbled a bit but still so very vivid in detail she could not deny their existence or pass them off as some deluded dream.

In a flash her lashes parted, scouring the deep grays and blacks coating her surroundings, searching endlessly for the answers to the abundant questions that kept manifesting themselves. For a moment she feared she'd been tossed into a tomb of some sort, for it took a while to pinpoint one tiny, almost invisible light twinkling in the not so far distance. The slit from the curtains was just enough to illuminate a small portion of her world, dancing over what appeared to be a covers that now, after extending her arm outward, confirmed it to be so.

This quickly spun her thoughts in an entirely new direction, one that caused her fingers to slide down the fabrics length, perplexed by the softness enveloping her. If her eyes were not deceiving her, nor her other senses for that matter, she seemed to be resting on a very large bed, swaddled in a very large blanket, pressed against a very warm object.

Vanellope didn't know what to make of this at first, for the last thing she recalled centered around passing out on the ground. Who placed her here and why constantly evaded her capability to comprehend, but should she make a guess the most likely candidate would have to be Sour Bill. Yet where this bed was located, its actual size and the most obvious being where the exit resided, came forth; she bracing herself on both arms in hopes to not only shed light her current situation but also to seek out her friends…

If any still lived.

Focusing her strength in hoisting herself up, the woman flattened her palms over something that felt strangely alien to this cozy environment. It gave her pause, staring at the smooth, cool object she'd not realized rested so close to her person.

The former president felt her guts clench when the thing suddenly -on it's own accord!- moved. And not just one thing mind you, but three more sprouted around it, rising into an arch, all reaching and turning in perfect unison. It was then as she shrunk back in fear that those grotesque shapes proceeded to swivel about, flexing almost, only to turn and slither on their spindly spines to encase her, trap her, pressing her fully into the warm structure caressing her back.

With a whimper her glitch spun her in the opposite direction, she burying her face into the wall that, when she stopped to listen, took a deep inhale.

The air around her vacuumed into the entity, widening her eyes to the point she knew they were a fraction from popping out. For in that same second she felt that the thing she hugged herself against move, twisting against her cheek to part, then dabble a tongue over the outer corners to moisten it's lips.

'O-oh god. OH GOD OH GODOHGODOHGOD NO!' her body craned as far back as the thing -which she now made out to be a hand- would allow, but it seemed the further she pushed from Turbo's giant face, the more he kept her locked in place, pushing her back against his broadening smile until she was all but smashed nose to nose.

"Gah! Turbo you son of a… I swear to mod I'll end you!"

"Good morning to you to, toots. Did my sweet pea sthleep well?"

"Did I sthleep well?! Did I?! Is that some kind of a joke?" Rearing back, she flung her fist out with all her might, beyond satisfied when she managed to clock him smack dab in his stubby nose, causing him to jolt back with a yowl, his head swaying on his elongated neck and looking fairly dazed by the blow.

It gave her just enough leeway to squeeze underneath his elbow, glitching the rest of the length down the mattress and to the edge, pressing herself against the curtains while he cupped his snout.

She frantically threw aside the fabric, bundling and bunching it looking for that small opening from before, every now and then shedding panicked glances behind her, "Come on come on you stupid thing. The president is ready to leave the building!" Still through all her struggles to find the light, she failed in locating it in time, paling considerably when the weight distribution shifted along the mattress.

Before she uttered so much as a squeak, her arms quickly became pinned to her sides, flickering her code into a staticy upheaval while she wailed and spat to her little hearts content. Thrashing her legs in the air, she soon found herself a few feet from the ground, rotated, flipped and again bound by the looming monstrosity that did not budge in his hold; looking none to amused by her antics either.

"Lemme go you shmuck! If you don't get your crummy hands off me in 5 seconds, I swear I'm gonna-!"

"You'll what? Scream sthome more?" His face came dangerously close to hers -and very nearly received a swift kick to the chin for it too. "Oho-ho my my, someone has a nasty temper this morning. I wonder what could've brought that on?"

'Gee, let me think.' "Maybe it has something to do with EVERYTHING you've done up until now. Oh, and let's not mention me waking up to see your ugly mug first thing in the morning. With your creepy crawly feelers all over me and… BLECK!" Her struggles started anew, though regardless how valiantly she shimmied, the task in escaping quickly became a fruitless endeavor, "Turbo!"

"King Turbo. King. There is definitely a 'King' in there. I don't know why everyone keeps forgetting that."

"What ever, your royal loathsomeness, just-" slumping in his hold, she glowered something vicious through her bangs, stubbornly jutting out her jaw, "What are you even doing here anyway?"

His brow ridge quirked curiously, sweeping his eyes around the curtains and back again as if confused by her inquiry. "This is our royal chambers. Where'd you expect me to sleep, heh, on the couch?"

'Royal chambers? Did he just say 'OUR' royal chambers?! As in…'

"Wha-at?"

That oily smirk returned to his lips once again, cementing itself firmly in place when he spoke, "Sorry to burst your bubble honey bunch's, but we'll be sharing a room -among other things- as is per the norm when it comes to such arrangements. Didn't you know?"

Did she know? HOW IN THE BLUE BLAZES COULD SHE KNOW?!

How, in all the layers of coding ever to be strung together, could he possibly expect HER to share there sleeping quarters?

The shock alone was enough to render her mute, mouth agape, feeling every color save the blue pixels drain from her skin. Incomplete sentences poured through her teeth, coming out in terrible, insufferable messes that Turbo seemed to take great delight in trying to decipher. That is, until she stopped dead in her tracks to say rather listlessly, "This is the sickest thing you have ever done, and believe me when I say you've done plenty."

"I try." He preened, looking none to embarrassed by his past transgression.

"That wasn't a compliment!"

"I gathered. But at this point, I'll take what ever I can get. Hoho, it's hardly the worst anyone's branded me with."

"I can keep going," Vanellope offered, narrowing her sights on that nauseating smugness that never ceased to permeate from his core.

"I wouldn't want you to go through the trouble, you may hurt yourself. Besides, it'sth never wise to use up all your vocabulary in one sentence. Best stay on the safe side and not push it, hmm." His chest limb gave a definite tap on her head, the threatening undertone did not go unnoticed either, she snarling at the insectoid leg, wishing her hands were free to punch it, and him, into oblivion, "Yeah yeah, I get it. I don't like it," Her frown deepened, "but I get it. My life has officially plopped into the crapper by my disease ridden room mate, who just so happens to love poo-pooing on anything I've ever come to care about."

"Hohoo, if you're trying to butter me up, STOP. You're not good at it."

'It'll be a cold day in the void before I do that!' "So… if you're done being a grade-A dillweed, I would really like to get out of here. Now. Like right now. Like I can hardly wait I want it done yesterday."

"Ah yesterday." Turbo spoke almost dreamily, dodging her request all together to turn over onto his back with her held straight above him, "I remember it like it was -hehe- yesterday. You in your gown, us exchanging vows, our first kiss. The race…"

Vanellope, who had been silently mocking him up until this point (and wondering what his infatuation was at holding her), soon found her attention trained solely on the cybrid, kicking her feet and, without realizing it, flashing a very lovely view of her underwear, "Whoa whoa, back that truck up. The race, the racers! What happened to them? I heard explosions and screaming and all sorts of hullabaloo going on out there!"

Extending his neck, he fixed her with such an ominously knowing look she practically found her anxiety spike to even greater levels. "I wouldn't worry to much about them, sthweet heart. After all, they're no longer your concern, as you may recall. They're _mine_." Vanellope opened her mouth to give him a few choice words over the matter, discovering her rib cage squeezed slightly, "Ah ah ah, careful now. There's a good chance that what ever it is you want to blurt out may hurt my feelings. And we wouldn't want that to happen, now would we?"

Feelings? Honestly, he'd have to have them before she'd ever get a chance to smash them under her heel.

"That'll be the least of your concerns if you've done _anything_ to hurt my friends!"

"Hohoho, are you trying to threaten me AGAIN? Deary me, I'll admit it was amusing the first few times, but now," His grip firmed, "it's starting to grow old. Ya might want to tone it down some before I start taking it personally."

"Look you!-" the shadows around his face darkened, prompting her to quickly correct herself and retract the edge engulfing her voice, "King Turbo, all's I want to know is if everyone's still alive. I-I mean ok, if they're ok. Cuz, uh, lets be honest here. You cant have a game without racers, am I right? A-and you wouldn't leave them to die on the track like they were nothing. No one's that heartless, not even you… right?"

Though his smile never faltered, she clearly saw a red ripple run along his head. Those headlight-like eyes dimmed, as did the volume he normally projected, softening himself to a fine whisper, "You think so?"

"I'd like to think you care somewhat for this games future, since you've already started throwing your fat around and making yourself at home." 'Like the good fer nothin parasite that you are.'

It seemed he caught that little after thought, or perhaps she'd spoken it aloud without realizing it, but either way the gentleness that once settled over him dispersed into the winds. The demeaning quality held fast, and before she knew it the woman found herself staring down a face full of ugly that constantly swam to close for comfort. "I s'pose I could wow you with the wonders pertaining to last night, and boy was it a night to remember too hoohoo! The screams, the pleading before I had them fastened tight to their karts. It really was -hahaa- laughable hoo, I'm cracking up just thinking about it HOHOO. Ah, such a pity you had to miss all the fun, but I'm sure you're used to being the odd man out." he winked at her knowingly, unfazed by her growling, "Did I say something to upset you? There there, no need to take it personally. I was just speaking the truth."

"After everything you've put me through, you tell me to not take it personally? You are…the most... YOU!" No words. She simply could not conjure any no matter how ruthlessly they beat against her teeth. The little few that did manage to spew forth did not hold the same venom she wished to unleash, coming out more with a hiss than a bite, "Why are you doing this? There's no reason to… to torment everyone, to hurt them, to hurt me! You've proven your point. You own us. So why? Why are you doing this?"

At first it appeared he didn't intend to humor her with an answer, tilting his head to the side, basking in the obvious tremble she no longer tried to control. "Oh darling, turn that frown upside down. I didn't go through all the trouble in making you beautiful so you could look miserable."

How she wanted to tell him to get bent for that, to screech her anger and frustration until her face turned blue and her pixels exploded from the effort. Instead, she simply dangled there in his claw, watching him just as intently as he did her, gnashing her lip as the fire within her eyes faded fast, lowering the walls surrounding her emotions. The concern, the insecurities she revealed in that moment spoke far louder than anything she could ever articulate, and he was not blind to see that there hovering in front of him was not the woman he had programmed her to be.

Instead what remained trapped in his clutch was nothing more than a lost, fearful little girl who knew nothing beyond the situation he had placed her in; she reverting back to the child he'd confronted not 24 hours ago, being just as naive to the ways in which she would now serve this game and who no doubt exhausted every last drop of courage she possessed.

A strange silence passed between them. The cybrid's once sardonic grin slipped into a thin line, pinching his brows together in deep concentration. Slowly he righted himself, sitting up to gently deposit her onto his belly, being sure to keep one hand behind her for support (and prevent her from running as well).

Their eyes locked, this time all the belligerence seemed to have been sucked completely from his shell, those elongated fingers skimming under her chin, preventing her, no matter what he spoke, from turning away, "Fine. Since you want to know 'why' so badly I'll tell you. It's because I CAN. If you think for one minute I feel anything for those miscreants that called me a blight, you'll be sadly mistaken. I don't take kindly to being painted a villain, but if that's what you want…" he jerked her face up, "I'll play that part to it's fullest. It all… depends… on you."

"I never wanted anyone to die! Not even y-"

Shoving her away, he lent back with a snort, somehow mutating that bitter sound into a strange mixture of laughter and snarls, "Then you should've thought about **THAT** when you tried to dethrone me. Now you get to pay the price. Or more precisely, you're new bosom buddies do."

"And how many did you leave alive? You never answered my question earlier."

"I think it's best to save that conversation for after breakfast, dear."

"NO!" thumping her fist hard on his shell, she did not, and would not, allow herself to be brushed off again. "I want to know how many you haven't already butchered for your own amusement and I want to know right now! I think I deserve a little peace of mind from everything I've had to put up with from you!"

Again she found herself treading on dangerous ground, for she quickly discovered that no one demanded anything from Turbo and he, from previous encounters, made it very clear one shouldn't even attempt to.

Yet strangely enough he did not reprimand her for the small outburst. Cracking his knuckles, he huffed, "You're beginning to ride on my nerves."

"It's the least you can do. I'm not twisting your arm or asking for the moon. I just want to know if they're... alive."

Another deep intake. Then...

"... they are."

Those words echoed in her thoughts a million times over, beating down the weights binding her until, with a heavy sigh, she crumpled into his palm, praising the forces above for their infinite mercy. To finally hear this confirmation set her mind at ease, but not completely, the small peace in her heart did not last long; not when other questions sprouted around her, yearning for elaboration. "Then are they hurt? Comatose? Bones broken, limbs amputated? What about the civilians, did anything happen to them? I know you must've done something because god forbid you act like anything other than a double dipped butt muncher!"

The cybrid simply rolled his shoulders, brushing off not only her but the exasperation he felt roiling under his carapace, "If that's what you want to believe…"

Suddenly without warning she found herself flipped about, juggled almost between both his hands and chest limbs until her feet landed on the cotton candy blankets.

Vanellope careened back when his form towered over her own. Though thankfully it only lasted a few short seconds, long enough for him to get his bearings and swat the curtains aside, slipping off the mattress with ease. The ex-president took a few hesitant steps towards the edge, dispelling the moisture in her eyes. She'd not realized how the frustration manifested itself until she rubbed the water away, wiping the last traces away before she pressed her face fully through to the other side, gazing at the room that sure enough still held the same darkness she remembered it to. She suddenly clasped her arms fully around herself, aware that if it weren't for lamp down below or the cybrid king's glistening optics, this room would be doused in the pooling blackness and she would most definitely be lost in its void.

It took her a good while to locate the monstrous tyrant, focusing more on her auditory sensors than anything, eventually spotting him a short distance to the left. His lumbering form shifted, weaving his arms about an unseen object that matched his size. He swept a glance in her direction only once, giving the woman a fleeting once-over before returning to his original goal. Once he finished, shuffling sound pricked her ears, as did a thump, followed by his heavy approach.

Vanellope instinctively back peddled further along the mattress, glitching a few steps and debating if she should chance trying to slip past him to the ground. No doubt he wouldn't even realize her absences until it was to late, and by then she'd at least be in the hallways with a wall to separate them. Sadly, she did not have the time to make up her mind when his figure cut into her vision, occupying the small space that once promised freedom and extended his claws towards her.

This only forced the woman to further distance herself, squeaking when his weight shifted the bed. The annoyance he once possessed seemed to have vanished all together, returning that gleeful lilt to his voice that never fully touched his eyes, "Hoohoo, there's no need to be afraid, sthweetheart. I only wish to give you a little something before I go."

"You've already given me enough, thanks. I don't think I can take any more surprises from you."

Tsking her through his teeth, he uncurled his fingers to reveal nothing more than a poofy dress. And by the looks of it, this too was another frilly one that just screamed bad taste. The multitude of tassels, lace, candy wrappers and sugar sprinkles thrown over it did absolutely nothing to make it appealing, she crinkling her nose further when he continued to offer the gaudy thing to her in that expectant way a dog repeatedly nudged at it's owners arm.

Grumbling, the woman honestly didn't know what to do. Though the fight in her seemed nothing more than a trickle by now, she certainly didn't want to accept this gift and/or encourage what ever game he wished to play. Especially if he expected her to wear that travesty (which she had no intention of doing. Period).

"I sure hope you kept the receipt."

"I'm sthorry, what was that? Did you say, 'Awh shucks, thank you for the lovely present, honey, it'll look fabulous on me.' I think you did, or more precisely, you meant to."

If he thought she was going to stand there and thank him for anything, including this, he certainly had another thing coming to him. Hardening her stare, Vanellope locked her jaw in a defiant manner, bristling from the audacity spewing from his gob, "I'll chalk that up to more things that wont happen. _Gah_, _I'd rather run around butt naked than wear what _that_ is_." She grumbled the last part under her breath, stopping herself short when not only did she realize he had heard but also because his face perked up towards the suggestion.

Turbo extended his smile to the point every jagged tooth became perfectly displayed,giggling, "Mmhehe, that sounds like a splendid idea. Why, I don't see any reason we should delay enforcing this new dress code, seeing as how you don't want what I've so generously provided." His claw danced just a fraction underneath her hem, beginning it's pursuit upwards when she, in complete horror, wrenched away, tangling her legs in the frenzy to slip away.

With a plop she landed on her behind, the embarrassment that consumed her spread clear up to her roots, she practically screaming, "What the flippin fudge is wrong with you?! Are you mental?"

"Ohoohoo dear, did I startle you? My apologies. These carnfoundit claws some times have a mind of their own you know. Cant do a thing with them."

"Then I'd appreciate it if you kept them far away from me." In an instant she recoiled, scooting a little when he leaned all his upper weight onto his elbows, extending himself further into her personal space and not stopping until she rested well within his encircled arms, "Perhaps you should stop encouraging me to touch you."

"I haven't done anything t-to… to-" the woman whipped her head bout, not entirely shocked when those large digits of his tickled her backside, nor was she all that surprised to feel his steamy breath fan along her front. "I haven't done a darn thing. You j-just want an excuse to put your slimy paws all over me because… because you're a…"

Those luminous fires bore into her even more so, sparking a sudden sense of insecurity within the ex-president to the likes she had never felt. Quickly she hugged herself when he continued to stroke her back, running the nail along her spine and, heaven help her, chirring while doing so. For the briefest moments Vanellope feared for herself. She didn't know what it was that twisted in her gut or what exactly she expected, but something niggled in her mind. Something unknown, elusive. A fear that had no name but felt tangible enough to choke her lungs and eventually, after failing to receive a response, avert her eyes.

With a hmf Turbo unwound himself from the obviously perturbed woman, depositing the dress over her shoulders -and burying her in the process- easily straightening himself to his full height, "I'm a great many things, but for right now I'm to famished to recount them all. So what's say we skip this pointless banter and freshen up, enjoy our breakfast, go over a few more proviso's regarding your…" He gestured in attempts to conjure the right word, "predicament, and get everything all squared away before the arcade opens, hmm? Does that sound like a good plan?" he didn't give her any time to interject, "I thought so."

Stepping to the side, he waved behind himself with a pompous kick to his step, nose held high as he crossed the room.

A click reverberated against her ears, then a grunt from a graham door, his pixels sputtering to finally re-position the monarchs lively countenance, the virus looking over his shoulder, shedding a comforting smile that always held a foreboding promise to it, "I understand if you choose not to attend, really I do. It's been such a topsy turvy day and all hoho, plus I feel we may have started it on the wrong foot… or feet. But let me make something very clear before you think about refusing my 'invitation'." And to this his expression darkened, dropping his voice a full octave, "I may have allowed all the racers to live, but I only need a few to keep this game running. The npc's, bless their candy hearts, hold even less value to me besides a lively snack here and there. So think carefully what you're willing to lose should you continue to defy me, sweetums. You may live to regret it, if you live at all."

The graveness in his voice echoed along the walls, and Vanellope, unable to say or do anything, simply sat there clutching at her throat. To this he found satisfactory, beaming yet another fake sugary smile, giggling to himself as he disappeared into the next room. A sing-songy, "Ta-ta." was all that floated behind him before the door shut completely, Vanellope hugging herself forlornly in the shadows. "Jokes on you then," she whispered halfheartedly, sinking low into herself with a dejected sigh fluttering her bangs, "I already regret it."

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A/N: Wow. Just wow. Dialogue, how do you work? It's always been one of my weak points but I hope this is satisfactory. For a long time their conversations were a lot more lighthearted, but the more I started thinking about it, the more I didn't see that as being a genuine reaction to the circumstances. Well Turbo maybe, but not Vanellope. So this chapter went through at least 4 rewrites and I'm ok with how it turned out. It was also supposed to be broken up and covered the breakfast scene as well, but after seeing the 10 pager mark pop up, I didn't want to leave you guys hanging any longer and thus wrapped it up here. So sorry for the long wait too. Blame my inability to manage time and my constant rewriting perfectionist ways.

Any who, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy another chapter.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: So for those that read this the first time I posted it, I'd like to say that I've added a little more here and there to the chapter. And when I say a little more, I mean I reworked some of the conversations and fleshed out a few paragraphs. So hopefully this chapter flows better than the first time I uploaded. It jumped 2,000 words so it better by golly!

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Chapter 8

A steady hum reverberated from the cybrid's throat, his hands danced across the tables top, sorting through the various delicacies spread out for his dining pleasure. Every once in a while he would alternate on which plate to pick from, bringing a few tasty morsels up to devour whole. Several items disappeared in this manner, and regardless on the quantity he shoveled in it never seemed to appease the hungry beast in the slightest.

The peppermint maids worked diligently to clear what few scraps he left behind, always ready to replace the food and refill his mug (which was a task unto itself) before he ever noticed either running low. They skittered about their duties in silence, though a few did squeak on the off occasions those claws drew to close, ducking and dodging his limbs in a vain attempt to avoid being devoured.

Turbo hardly gave them a second thought, weaving his digits between their bodies to pluck up his next bite, shedding not the slightest care for their jittery dispositions. In fact he showed more concerned for the non sentient food than the likes running about, twiddling his fingers anxiously on what to consume next. A hungry eye swept along the table, sending many servants to find it far wiser to slip away unnoticed while they still possessed the ability to do so -all of which forgetting the one lone figure that stood alone by the oatmeal bowl.

Sour Bill shed a panicked look in all directions. There seemed no other place for him to flee to, and what with the monsters shadow descending upon him, he held even less time to escape at all. Fretting his bottom lip, the pint sized assistant covered his head, preparing for the worst.

He nearly collapsed to his hard shelled belly in fear, hunkering down low, ready to grovel if need be should his life truly be in danger. Yet the pleas he'd been so willing to voice hardly made it past a his thoughts, silencing them altogether when his masters chuckles caressed his ears. The beastly appendage altered its course to the left, spearing a claw straight through into a donut pile.

"We're getting a tad bit jumpy, aren't we Sthour Bill?"

The green confection shook clear down to his core, unable to move or respond. He simply stood stock still, hands planted firmly over his sphere, hunkering down even lower to the table. It seemed he no longer possessed the ability to do anything other than remain motionless, palms fixed in place -perhaps permanently at how firmly he pressed them into his shell- shaking his head and gasping for breath that came shorter and shorter the more he tried to draw it in. Eventually he found no air to come at all, not when his masters shrieking laughter reverberated against the dinning room walls.

"Why you're shaking like a leaf. Hoho, you act like I'm going to pick you up and... Oh. _Oh_ Sthour Bill," the cybrid cooed, clucking his tongue in a disappointed manner. "Did you honestly think I'd tire of you so soon?"

The green confection remained silent, flinching even more when those grisly fingers ghosted over his head.

Flashing a knowing smile, the virus sat there chortling softly to himself, able to discern the other's answer clearly enough. He made it no secret on how greatly he enjoyed provoking the Sugar Rushian's fear's, Sour Bill being no exception either, greedily lapping up their trepidation with the same gusto he used to shovel food into his belly. He snatched another helping of donuts, popping a few into his mouth and chewing much slower now, savoring the flavor to its fullest whilst he thought.

The gaunt expression from Sour Bill made his dining experience all the more pleasurable, especially when a simple reveal of his teeth invoked so many fresh tears. The way his adviser shuttered was almost laughable and upon seeing the peppermint maids lurking behind the kitchen doors, to afraid to approach now that his appetite for actual food had slackened, Turbo felt his smirk stretching clear up to his ears. Oh how he loved watching their bodies tremble from his mere presence, for they knew not only did he wield great power over their lives (and undoubtedly this land), he could very well extend his rule beyond their games borders.

The idea in itself remained an appealing one, constantly pressing on his mind and tickling it with endless possibilities. To where he wished to wander, the arcade was his limit. Or perhaps not given the newly installed wifi Mr. Litwak had purchased recently.

The cybrid chewed with renewed vigor, playing several scenarios in his minds eye that revolved around not so promising outcomes for a mass majority, but at this point he hardly cared for those unfortunate enough to fall under his reign. 'Still, one shouldn't get to ambitious in such a short time.' He reminded himself, tucking those fantasies away into a neat little box for future endeavors. For the moment, he would focus on his legacy here; exacting the revenge he'd concocted weeks prior.

Polishing off the remaining donuts, and suppressing the temptation to lick the plate clean, Turbo pushed the crumbs aside for now, refocusing his attention on the next edible object lining his sights. The smell alone drew him towards it like a moth to a flame, filling his jaws with the saliva that, had he not held an ounce of self control, would've dribbled down his chin due to his animalistic hunger.

Before to long two plates lay empty and pushed to the side, their contents consumed down to the icing sticking to the dish. It didn't take long for him to move onto another, then another, slowly losing the intelligent coherency he'd displayed moments prior. Any -if not all- his thoughts became consumed with consumption, pushing any other desire down until that single primal urge to eat, to devour, became his one and only purpose.

The warmth that entered his stomach created a pleasurable sensation deep within his code. He could only attribute it to the cybug programming at work, for why else would devouring one's weight in pastries give such a buzz? It certainly hadn't before hand and now, lifting a forkful of syrup drenched french toast, he felt strange to be so enthralled by such a minuscule thing. Things he'd not enjoyed so thoroughly until... well. Gulping one last bite, he reminded himself not to question certain aspects pertaining to this new body, though it did irk him some what by its peculiar habits.

A soft tick from a grandfather clock poked through his musings, lifting his sights to the hour and, for the first time that day, take note on the time.

In doing so he nearly chocked by his discovery.

'7:45!?'

That left 15 minutes until the arcade opened. 15 meager minutes to compress his entire "rule" speech (which he had worked on very hard he might add) into its simplest, most basic form.

It also annoyed him to no end that that ungrateful little glitch refused his dining proposal. The one he felt had spelled out her doom quite nicely should she refuse his _hospitality_.

Raising his arms skyward, the virus continued to hack and sputter, finding that regardless on how diligently he fought to control his lungs, they persisted in muddling his breaths, leaving him nothing more than a coughing mess that had to hunch his back from his efforts. Eventually he did manage to chew back any further aggravations in his chest, the cybrid slamming his fist's angrily onto the table top, wheezing a curse every now and then.

"S-sire, are you-?"

"I'm fine!" Turbo snarled, prompting Sour Bill to reel back into his original position without another word.

The virus gnashed his teeth together, whipping his face around to glare more fitfully at the jostled plates and cups. And most especially the place that had been set for her. The anger he felt prickling behind his skull swelled the further he sat there, brooding over her absence like some child forced to wait to open their presents. Listening to the clocks soft clicks did not improve his mood either, not when time already pressed against him so mercilessly and now, glowering at the empty place her body would've occupied, it seemed she would never show despite his orders.

Just the mere thought of her blatant disrespect rose his heckles.

The way she constantly refused him, dismissed him even... as if **SHE** were the one in charge... vexed him beyond all reason, spiking his animosity that much more.

But as quickly as the angry bout had seized him, Turbo smothered it back down, releasing the tension in his fist's to help push himself into a straighter, more dignified, position. "I sthuppose this means the glitch has made her decision." the giant muttered, replacing his hateful expression for one of passivity, "More's the pity."

If this is how she wanted to play the game then so be it; he would give her exactly what she wanted. If his warnings held no affect over her, or she simply did not believe them to be true, Turbo supposed it was high time he educated her. 'Though sadly,' the virus lamented, 'that will have to wait for after arcade hours.'

Dabbing a napkin around his mouth, he made quick work in scooting his chair back, standing to his full height and venting loud enough for at least Sour Bill to over hear, "I tell ya, it hardly pays to play the "_good guy_" now-a-days. There's no gratitude at the end of it."

"U-uh... well..."

"This behavior is disgusting. Not to mention rude and ill advised."

"F-for you or h-her?"

"I mean, heh, it'sth almost like she WANTS me to kill you all."

The green candies face paled. "Hoohoo, oh it's not like I probably wont SOMEday, mind you. That's a given. Yet I had assumed, when it came to her at least..." Rubbing at his chin, the cybrid quickly waved his thoughts aside, laughing almost maniacally to himself, "I guess that's what happens when you assume. Still... I did give her plenty of warnings before hand, didn't I Sthour Bill?" he paused long enough to glance down at the still petrified assistant, pressing, "DIDN'T I?"

"Yes… yes your majesty." Leaping back, he pressed himself fully into the nearest bowl, stumbling over his words just as much as he fell over himself to back away, "L-lots and lots of warnings, sire."

"And look at how she thanks me. Impertinent glitch!"

"B-but, uh, sire? I-If I may be so bold-" the glare he received stunted his question, but still he pushed forward, twiddling his hands together in hopes to keep calm, "H-has it ever occurred to you, your grace, th-that maybe she… she might be… uh... that is to s-say..."

"Sthour Bill, my patience is already running thin. Stho could you perhaps do me a favor, take a deep breath, figure out what it is you're _trying_ to say and **SPIT IT OUT**!"

"S-she might be lost in the castle!" Before the hard candy could utter another word, he soon found himself snatched from the ground, staring down one whose very aggression crackled through the air.

Turbo rolled the oval confection in his palm, twirling him about until he rested securely between both thumb and forefinger, "That is NO excusthe! And... hoohoo, did you just yell at me?" He corked one brow in question, somewhat amazed by the action. "It's funny. Out of all the years we've known each other, you've barely made a peep. But now... Now, my lowly subject has decided to not only speak in complete sentences, but to also -HOOHOO- scream excusthes for the queen. What a day to be alive."

Sour Bill refrained from commenting further, instead finding this the perfect opportunity to cover his eyes and try, with all his might, to suppress the whimpers that threatened to slip free.

"Hoohoo, oh Sthour Bill, stop that. I could never stay mad at you, old friend. Why, I thought I made it perfectly clear that you will be in my services for a long, long, indefinite amount of time. Or… hehe, at least until I grow weary of you." Pinching his fingers together, the candy immediately began to writhe in pain, desperately pleading in his most pathetic voice, "N-no! Sire, please… please don't!"

"Then let this serve as a warning for you, hmmm. As much as I tolerate your existence, and believe me I do appreciate your long years of servitude -really I do hoohoo- it isn't wise, or encouraged, for you to argue with me, under _any_ circumsthtances. Especially when it revolves around a certain glitch's behavior. Have I -hehe- have I made myself clear or should I continue?" The pressure in his hold increased, producing an immediate shrill of, "No! No, I understand I do! Really I do, sire…!"

The monstrosity nodded his head, rounding the table's edge where he wasted no time in smashing his stammering adviser into the nearest pancake stack; hardly shedding a backwards glance for the struggling other, who fought diligently to stay above the frosty toppings that threatened to consume him.

Hardly shedding a single care for Sour Bill's plight, Turbo instead fixed his attention towards the dinning room doors, pondering over his wife's absence and, more importantly, on what to do when they crossed paths again. There were definitely consequences to be had for this insubordination, a thing he would no longer tolerate on that girls part.

By god he swore to the programmers and the all mighty code that regardless on her excuse, she would forever and truly rue this day. Oh how she would regret snubbing his invitation, he would make damn sure of that, for if that glitch was so hellbent on dancing with devils, he'd certainly show her a step or two.

The fire in his veins continued to flow regardless on how much he tried to center his mind on other tasks. He had a game to run after all, or more precisely a grand reopening that required his greatest performance ever to date. So in shaking his surly disposition away, and attempting to reclaim his topsy turvy persona, Turbo set about pocketing his emotions (as he normally did in such situations) for a later date. For now he concerned himself more on rearranging his appearance, starting with his tie, then his cuffs, pausing shortly when he realized the pancakes whipped cream still clung to his fingers.

He rolled his eyes in mounting frustration, wasting no time to slam the digits into his mouth, sucking on the sugary goodness while still organizing himself in attempts to beat the clock. His legs quickly carried him towards the door and, had he not heard the soft click from the smaller set, he very well would've plowed through them. Grinding to a complete halt, his attention soon darted down at the slowly emerging head, watching as it hesitantly poked inside, surveyed the area, only to stop mid glance when fully confronting his towering form.

Vanellope's stomach immediately dropped when her eyes landed upon a certain individual, and in that same instant she ducked back into the hallway, nearly slamming the door to escape.

She stood stock still on the other side, having to gulp several times in order to calm her nerves and somehow, despite it all, reinforce the strength she'd attempted to piece together since this morning. It became quite a chore in doing this, much easier said than done, for her hands continued to shake and her heart felt like it had become a permanent fixture in her throat. Yet she knew without a doubt she still had no choice but to enter that dinning room, regardless at how fiercely her mind screamed to do otherwise, sucking in as much air as her lungs would carry before firming her resolve.

This meeting, this confrontation, was unavoidable.

Steadying her hand, Vanellope turned the knob once again, widening the space just enough to squeeze through to the other side. She took three steps in, stopped, exhaled steadily, then peered through her lashes at the imposing figure her "husband" cut in proper lighting. It took a great deal of self control to keep her lips from tweaking, though surprisingly enough it wasn't entirely from disgust.

The giant stood less than 6 yards away, sporting a rather looming presence that by all rights should have put her off completely. Instead, she found humor in studying his ugly exterior, snorting several times to see not only were his fingers crammed half way in his mouth (and making suckling sounds on top of it), he also sported some whipped cream along his nose and tie; which by looking at the shambles the table rested in, she found to be a miracle he wasn't covered in more.

Vanellope forcefully smothered any further giggles bubbling up, trying to refocus on his eyes the best she could in the given circumstances. She managed quite fine in fact when his brow arched dramatically -most likely in question regarding her behavior- chomping on her lip when he at last removed his fingers to speak, "And here I thought her highness wouldn't show."

"Why, what ever gave you that idea? It's not like there isn't a kajillion other places I'd rather be right now." She tilted her head with an impish grin, all to aware the sarcasm wasn't lost on him, nor had his been to her.

"Well in that case, I'm honored you found the time to grace me with your presthence. It's just a shame you happen to be a day late and a quarter short."

"That's hardly my fault. You never specified when I had to be here _exactly_. In fact, all's I had to do was show up. And wouldja look at this! I have. GASP! So amazing."

"When I invited you to join me, I meant-!"

"Ah bup bup." She waved her hand in the same dismissive manner he performed on the servants, surprisingly silencing him, "I'm not _sthtupid_, Turbo, I know what you meant. And there was no _inviting_. I don't know where you got that crazy notion from when you practically ordered me to be here... or else!"

"That's because-"

"But ya know what, that's ok. Because ya wanna know why I was running late? Do ya? It's a really good reason."

Giving her a dead pan stare, his lips parted only slightly before she cut him off yet again, "Well since you're so interested it's because while I was getting ready, I thought to myself… why do we even need these awkward chit chat sessions? There's no point to them. None what so ever. I mean, come on, clearly you and I have better things to do than bore each other with this silly back and forth. Like we're doing right now. See, I can already tell you want to leave and that's why I think this whole shibang is kinda useless in my honesty opinion. And it's kinda obvious we don't exactly enjoy one another's company... what with our history, the belittling, the ultimatums… _your ugliness_." She mumbled the last part.

"My what?"

"U-uh… your smugliness." Vanellope covered her flub, quickly rerouting to her previous argument, "So what I'm getting out is since we're technically a... oh what is it called? A marriage of…"

"Convenience?"

"Yeah, that's the word! We're a convenience. Actually, more like an inconvenience if you ask me but that's what this is, what we are. You get what I'm sayin?"

"Roughly," he drawled, glancing back towards the clock.

"This right here is exactly what I'm talking about. See, the _convenient_ part is that we don't have to see each other at all if we don't want too. I mean, sure a quick, "Hello Joe, how are you?" "Oh just dandy Bob, couldn't be better," is really all's we need. It'll work out great what with you doing your villainy thing, me doing my stuff, having our own rooms again, living perfectly happy separate lives like two separately happy people. Heck, hehe the less I see of you, the better in my opinion. As they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder, eh eh?" Vanellope shed a hopeful smile, aiming to use her false cheeriness to beat through that indifferent disposition he so sternly held. "Come on you ole so-and-so, don't give me that look. I know I'm making sense here. After all, we're both co-rulers, and responsible adults I may add. We can at least try to be a little diplomatic about this bizz."

Turbo hardly gave any indication he still followed their conversation. In fact, he gave little sign he'd been listening at all given the silence that swelled between them. The blankness in his expression alone held little promise he understood a single word she said, or perhaps he did but found the logic in it lacking. Either way Vanellope felt that familiar knot twist in her stomach, finding the smile she once bestowed gradually slip from her lips,finally evaporating completely when his eyes bore into her.

"So this is how you want to play it?"

"I-I'm... no. Yes? Wait, I'm not playing at anything. I'm just making a few friendly suggestions. Good ones too if you haven't noticed."

"Oh, I sthee, silly me." He chuckled, placing a claw to his chest in what she presumed to be fake embarrassment, "Because what I gathered from all that noise was you wanted to prance about and be, now how did you put it, _conveniently_ left alone. Preferably unsupervised too, hmm?"

"Aw shucks, poopy cakes, I knew you'd see it my way."

The glower cast upon her meager form ended any, if not all, sass on her part, and had the intensity in his eyes not stopped her, the foreboding timber his words carried certainly did, "Had her tardiness not dawdled for so long with these suggestions, I might have been persuaded. Most likely by returning your ungrateful honey buns to the fungeon. But _now_!"

"_Again_, I'll remind you that you never set an exact time for this meet-and-eat, so don't you dare try and place all the blame on me. It was your stupidiocy that-"

"Do **NOT** insult my intelligence!" The bellow nearly sent the woman's rigging to part from her skin, she leaping so hard into the door she nearly became one with it. Raising hands defensively, the woman's pixels sparkled sporadically in place, pressing herself more and more into the hard chocolate surface when his volatile nature increased, "You think you're being so clever, don't you glitch? That I -heh- the guy who's been running this show longer than you can count it, couldn't possibly comprehend your true motives or understand your "_innocent_" sthuggestions? Then hoohooHO, have I got news for you, my wittle wify poo. And it isn't good news either. At least… not for you," the virus sang, quivering almost giddily when she bulked. "I wasn't plugged in yesterday, sweetheart. I already know everything that's going through that little pea brain you got there." He made a show by tapping on her forehead, smirking for every time she ducked unsuccessfully, "That includes everything you have thought of, or ever will think of, regarding your new position here. Hoohoo, I spent a month in hiding, if you recall, which gave me plenty of time to figure things out. And let me tell ya, it isn't difficult to discern what your next moves will be either. So please, by all means sweetums, if you still believe you can somehow best me with your predictable antics, continue to do so. But be warned," and to this he lent forward, his visage bobbing sporadically between the two identities until finally resting upon the one she truly feared… and deeply hated, "_this_ is your **_final_ **warning. If I catch you screwing around being a bad little girl, the fungeon will be the least of your concerns."

Her hair stood on end, clanking her teeth so viciously together Vanellope nearly felt them shatter from the force. All the while, as she stood there swearing her ribs were going to crack due to her hearts rapid assault, that giant abomination crouched there so poised, so condescendingly collected and unphased by his own deadly promises it took several seconds more for rationality to resurface and the initial shock to bleed away. Vanellope wet her lips, mostly in an effort to distract herself rather than anything else, forcing herself to gaze into the soulless eyes this creature possessed, "T-then I guess you want me to be good and h-honest with ya from now on, huh?"

"Now you're getting."

Taking a deep breath, the ex-president fumbled to line up her next words. She wanted nothing more than to press the matter in them leading separate lives, since honest to goodness she couldn't fathom why he would want it any other way. In fact, she couldn't wrap her mind around why he hadn't chucked her in the fungeon to begin with, since that seemed the most logical approach and the most promising end to his predicament. But once again she supposed picking through his mind was, as always, a fruitless endeavor, which yielded no more results then it did to raise more questions. Biting back the urge to follow that train of thought, Vanellope instead rerouted herself to a different track, swallowing any sarcasm that tried to rear its ugly little head. "I'll just come out and be straight with you then. I'm… I am afraid of you, ok? By a lot. A lot lot. You and your... uh... everything, scares the pez out of me."

"Oh, do I now?" He pressed, not sounding the least bit surprised. "And here I thought my dashing good looks had struck you dumb."

"What?! No! I-I mean, uh... look, I admit that you are a scary guy. One who can do as he pleases a-and get away with murder. That's why I-I… that is to say, I don't want to be around you too often... or really at all if it helps. After all, you're a..." she made a hasty hand gesture at him, "Not to mention I don't necessarily approve of how you're running the game. It's not right. Even if you are the new big bad boss guy, this... this is wrong. On so many levels it's wrong and… and I think you know that too. Deep down." Hesitantly stretching a hand outward, Vanellope reached forth as if she were going to place it over his heart to perhaps place emphasis on her declaration. But upon noticing Turbo's equally perplexed expression, and realizing what she'd been in the process of doing, she quickly snatched her arm back against her own chest, fighting the trembles that suddenly began to knock against her body.

For a while they simply stood there, watching for the other's next move, and though the ex-president felt her strength in matching his stare dwindling, she continued to lock gazes with the gold now glowing down upon her, searching for something, for anything that he once was.

A racer maybe? A hero? Even if that had been a life time ago, didn't something still linger in his codes? Something good and honest and true to his original programming? Surely not everything had been consumed in the bitterness, the corruption, the virus.

Just when she thought that maybe she had touched a nerve, that somehow a tiny part of him recognized his fault, the shift fell upon him yet again; his discolored teeth poking out from behind his smile. The sharpness in his eyes did not contain a single drop of sympathy, nor did his voice for that matter, "Do you know what the beauty is in being a virus?"

Though that threw her for a loop, Vanellope stuttered the first thing that came to mind, "N-no curfew?"

"Hohoho, that's cute." His other hand extended a hairs length from caressing her arm, casting his eyes down into her low cut dress, "Right or wrong, no one can stop you from having a little _fun _every now and then."

"And you call killing people, _innocent _people, fun?"

To that he lent even lower, so low in fact the scent from his meal immediately assaulted her senses, causing her not only to recoil from its overpowering scent but also to gag when he uttered a response, "It's a scream."

"You're disgusting." That she could say with the utmost confidence. Yet despite receiving the reprimand she assumed he would lash at her with, his fickle disposition shifted in the polar opposite direction, sending the giant to not only chortle but to bob his head in agreement, "Sticks and stones, love. Sticks and stones."

'If only they'd break you into itty bitty pieces.' She so eagerly wished to snap, ceasing any form of retaliation due to their previous conversations. Instead she tore her face in the opposite direction, no longer able to stomach the sight of him. If he preferred to be a heartless wretch regarding everything, than so be it. If he wanted to stand there like a complete lunatic and watch the world burn around him, then so be it! But she, in folding her arms across her breasts, absolutely refused to participate in his madness any further; casting her attention elsewhere and hoping the silence she shed ended any further conversations.

However, standing their pouting in obvious anger did not necessarily mean _he_ was finished with her. Not when something cold brushed along her shoulder.

Spinning her sights about, the woman nearly came undone when his thumb smoothed itself along her collar bone, pausing only shortly when she glitched from the unwanted contact. Her mouth hung open, flapping to speak yet finding the process to do so impossible. His chuckles continued to reverberate within her ears, deepening as he lowered his exploration along the delicious outer contours her chest provided.

She attempted to veer from his touch, jolting back so hard her head bounced against his other hand -which still loomed against the door and did not move what so ever as she pressed against it- swiveling her eyes wildly between the two limbs in panic. Blue pixels sputtered brilliantly around his caress, throwing themselves into such a flurry it became almost hypnotic to watch. Each part magnified itself in vibrancy, dancing and swimming in such a complex way it left the observer spellbound by it's flame like beauty.

In that moment the cybrids breath hitched, then grew more ragged the further he gazed into her swirling code. Another second flew by and an almost foreign tingle flickered behind his yellow orbs. That spark, blue in its luminosity, nearly encompassed the whole of his optics, shifting their color into a vibrant kaleidoscope that, once she gazed upon it, reflected her stricken features with fractured versions of herself.

Vanellope barely held back the urge to shriek, stricken mute when those eyes, the ones that stared so hungrily into her form, took on a cybug sheen to the likes that spun her into hysterics. Throwing her arms up did little good when he attacked, though it was not her body he sought to devour... but her lips.

The overwhelming sensation nearly caused her legs to give out. The heat alone was enough she found her head swimming, but the sudden realization regarding who she kissed, of whose tongue curled against her teeth, sparked the woman to fight tooth and nail against her paralysis, writhing in great spirits to part this creature from her person. Clamping her jaws tightly shut, her hands immediately flew up to his cheeks, gripping at them so fiercely she heard him grunt from the pain. This did not send him hurling back, however; if anything he pressed himself more firmly against her, and coupling that strength with his determination, Vanellope soon found herself smashed flat against the hard chocolate door.

Again she felt the devastating helplessness spear into soul, and again the sickness churned inside her belly, stinging her vision by the tears and hatred brimming within them. The memories from the night before came rolling back, awful and hateful, slamming into her just as forcefully as the monster that kept her imprisoned by his kiss. It sickened her to no end, but no matter how passionately she screamed in her head or how ruthlessly she scratched into his face, he refused to part ways.

Oxygen and options dwindled the longer he kept her caged there, and she, not wanting to participate in this repulsive act any further, acknowledge she had but one choice remaining.

Scrunching her lids, the woman unleashed what the little air she still clung to, effortlessly breaking her code apart to throw through the doors.

In her frenzy to get away she nearly rematerialized inside the opposite room, making quick work to grind her newly reformed feet into the hallway floor... only to trip head over heels when her skirts bunched around her ankles. The hem had been the first to tangle, followed by the multitude of ribbons slapped on for decoration, ensnaring her legs so completely Vanellope half felt like a strung up calf at a rodeo. The fall came as no surprise given the speed she traveled. To say she hit the floor hard would be a gross understatement.

The force in which her forehead slammed into it gave a resounding crack down the corridor, being loud enough a few guards down noticed and spun their bodies to look at her. She must've looked quite the sight, but the woman paid their hushed dialogue no mind. Instead she simply settled on the tiles, attempting to gather her wits after that tumble and hopefully, god willing, get the bitter after taste out of her mouth.

She crinkled her nose, sputtering, groaning and spitting out her disgust, raging internally on why that creep always felt the need to touch her. To _KISS_ her all the bleeding time! Wasn't it bad enough they would forever be stuck with each other?

Apparently he didn't share the same sentiments pertaining to their "predicament", for not a second after she pushed herself into a sitting position the muffled curses from the dining room silenced her complaints, drawing her focus onto the larger doors who, without warning, flung themselves wide open, revealing the devil himself to harden his glower onto her form, "Did I say we were finished, dearest?"

"W-we didn't have anything else to say." She countered shakily, scooting along the ground when his brows furrowed, "And... and who do you think you are assaulting me like that, huh? You cant just go around and-" All over again she felt the ground tremble under his steps, and all over again she clamped hard on her tongue, riffling her fingers through her skirts in a rapid frenzy to liberate herself.

"I did warn you there would be more to come. Do you think I'm sthaying these things to hear my own voice?"

"Ye-"

His finger pointed, "You best watch yourself, missy. I'm already in a foul mood -AND running late because of you- stho I suggest you keep that trap shut unless -hoohoo- you want to upset me more than you already have."

"Upset you?" Stiffening her back, Vanellope felt indignation burn inside every pore her body possessed, gnashing her pearly whites at this beast lording over her, "After you... you... you hurt me, harass me, and now viciously attack me… I somehow upset YOU? God, what a joke." She wanted to spout out more, finding the insults sizzling in her lungs, manifesting in her brain, waiting patiently to be flung out to drive another nail into her coffin. Instead she took the safer route and swallowed the spite accumulating in her mouth, sniffling quietly and throwing her attention more towards freeing her limbs rather than tossing verbal jabs at that idiot. Her insults would do no one any good no matter how creative they were so really... what was the point?

Giving him the cold shoulder, she thus set about trying to untangle her feet from the bows, ribbons and ripped hem without making to much noise, attacking the mess with renewed gusto as every now and then swiped at her eyes. At this point she honestly didn't give a fig what Turbo did from now on, though she supposed it would never be anything good given his track record, being perfectly unmoved when his limbs ground into the floor, drawing upon her so suddenly she nearly yelped when his beastly paws wrapped around her ankles.

"What the-? What? T-Turbo, what are you d-doing?"

"What's it look like?" That slimy sneer revolted her so thoroughly the very bile sloshing in her stomach threatened to gurgle up, intensifying the feeling tenfold when he yanked her legs straight out, somehow wiggling a claw between them in such a way the woman nearly came undone.

She immediately flung her palms against his knuckles, trying in a vain attempt to keep it from lurching any higher, shouting, "Get away from me. Now! I... I-I'm serious, Turbo, let go. Let! Go! Of! _ME_!"

He gave her demands little heed, instead tweaking the corners of his lips higher and jabbing the razor-like fingertip clean through the fabric, slowly, ever so slowly, tugging down to part the material.

"NO! Get off! GET OFF YA BIG DUMB STUPID DINGBAT! I _mean_ it! If you don't-!"

"My my, such language. And would you look at that, more threats." He mocked, placing one hand over her frantically squirming legs to subdue her, "Hoohoo, perhaps it's a blessing you skipped breakfast. I have this distinct feeling your table manners will be just as atrocious as your bedside ones."

"They're no worse than yours! Now would you… so kindly… please _stop_?" A tight gasp rolled down Vanellope's throat. To feel that cold digit glide along her bare skin, caressing her calves, instantly set her teeth on edge, she resorting now to plowing her nails into his wrist's to prevent him from moving any further, unaware or uncaring of the pain she reaped upon herself in doing so. "S-stop... please... I don't... I don't want... you to..." She didn't know what she wanted, or more precisely what she didn't want to happen, unsure why her heart pounded so viciously or what it was that licked up her spine to fill her with such unknown terror, but the way he constantly hovered over her, kissed her, fondled her, as he did now, brought the unwanted emotion into existence; filling her eyes with so much moisture she felt it near to overflowing if he didn't cease what ever it was his touch invoked in her.

Though Turbo appeared disinterested in her plight, he did not ignore her reaction in the slightest. Once he successfully sheared through the fabric, he lifted that same offending claw to tilt her chin back, half amused by the hiccuping mess she presented, "Stiff upper lip, sweetie pie, I'm almost finished."

Her nails continued to bite into his wrist, she being all to aware at how tremendously the tips ached yet held no power to prevent herself from inflicting more damage. She continued to sniffle and shake, staring straight ahead, digging, constantly digging into him until he settled his thumb underneath her spindly little fingers, sighing while he pried her death grip loose.

Not a words was said in return, no exchange forth coming. He simply tucked her hands nice and neat into her lap, allowing her to study the damage all by her lonesome as he busied himself once again, unaffected by her tantrum or the pain she caused herself.

Vanellope on the other hand glared fitfully at the jagged bits her nails presented now, nervously gnawing on her lip to see such injuries. She held no doubt these blasted things would hurt well into tomorrow, and perhaps the day after knowing her luck, she being adamant to mask a wheezy sob behind a sneeze. It at least gave her the excuse to wipe at her nose and cheeks without being to obvious about it.

Turbo gradually lifted his claw away once she calmed, committing himself now on untangling her from her bindings. His nimble fingers wasted no time in unraveling the remaining mess, now managing to attack one leg at a time instead of a whole bundle, firstly setting the left foot free, then the right, clicking his tongue when the last tangle fell away, "Such a shame you keep ruining your outfits like this. I'll have to fashion something a little sthturdier if I expect you to remain decent. Hoohoo, or perhaps I should just start beating the impudence out of you. How doesth that sound?"

Stubbornly jutting her chin out, his smile remained unflinching even when she smeared her cheeks clean, fighting the temptation to snap a rather scathing remark. Amazingly enough she suppressed the insult and instead invested her energy on glaring -the wiser option she knew- hoping against hope it somehow magically split him down the middle. Sadly, his smile never faltered, and since he didn't appear to be in any pain, she gave up trying to slay him with her look and instead stuck her tongue out.

Again he clucked at her, fanning her tussled hair over her shoulders, running his tips through the strands, seeming to give less care towards her attitude and more on rearranging her appearance; smoothing out her sleeves, what remained of her skirts, even going so far as to hoist up her bodice when it sagged. It was then, while he tugged around the lacy trim to make it poof out perfectly, that Vanellope no longer doubted how he actually perceived her. Or more precisely... how he preferred her to be, the way he treated her (and everyone else for that matter) clicked a switch in her mind that sent a whole new horrifying emotion to drain the color from her skin.

They really _weren't_ people in his eyes. At least... not any more, he having turned them, including _her_, into nothing more than simple objects crafted for his own amusement. The way he went about rearranging her outfit stood example enough, and amidst his endless preening, Vanellope certainly felt like a thing rather than a person; being man handled and tossed about in his meaty palms, having to sit there and allow him to tug and adjust the atrocious dress to his hearts content until he at long last finished his critic, sitting back to smile at his own handy work. "Now this is how I want you to be, minus the rips of course." He stood her up, or more precisely forced her to stand, spinning her about like a ballerina, "Poised, pretty, and above all else, _silent_. Preferably with your ring on too, hoohoo. We don't want anyone to mistake you for a free woman."

The implication that carried caused her to instantly jerk free, blinking back the tears, "Believe me, no one's going to think that after the big hullabaloo you threw at the wedding."

"Sthtill, I'd prefer if you wore it."

"I keep tellin ya there's no point, just like everything else you want me to do. Besides... the thing was ugly as all get out. It deserved the corner I chucked it in."

She could just feel his upbeat demeanor dissolve the further she protested, being well aware that even despite what her stubbornness told her, she stood little to no chance winning any arguments with this abomination.

"Get the ring, glitch. Wear it. And don't make me tell you again."

"You know, if you were a little nicer..."

"I'm losing my patience with you."

"A "_please_" wouldn't hurt."

"Woman!"

"VANELLOPE! VA-NELL-O-PE. For Konami's sake, you should know who I am by now. I _am_ the woman you married after all."

"Like I need a reminder." He grouched, spinning on his legs to trudge down the corridors... pausing when her hushed voice wafted into his ears, "What you _need_ is to do us all a favor and stay dead… _it aint like anyone will miss you_."

The moment that barb flew from her mouth, Vanellope knew with the utmost certainty she would've traded her very soul to shove it back in. Just the way he ground to a halt, bunching his shoulders to slowly twist his neck back around, made her clamp a shaking hand over her mouth, watching desperately as the look on his face contorted into one riddled with madness. The rounded contours his features once possessed grew sharper, more defined and grotesque the longer she gazed upon it, choking her when the wild savagery abruptly curled his mouth into a snarling, foaming maw ready to tear into her flesh. The rapidly flickering faces never ceased to disorientate its intended victim, and she, gazing upon that sudden rage in silent terror, found her own glitching incapable of moving her so much as an inch.

His arm pulled back, ready to charge the distance and strike her dead.

Yet to both of their astonishment, the clocks soft chimes were heard swelling from the dinning room mantel, sighing each lazy note for every hour it had previously passed. And with each toll, the fire that once blazed so brightly inside the cybrid's carapace dwindled to a tiny ember, taking with it his animalistic desire to kill.

Turbo gritted his fangs so tight the effort cracked along his jaw, yet despite it all he did manage to beat back his blood lust, shutting his eyes to release a heavy sigh. It was obvious that despite how much effort he placed in to controlling his demons, he still wished very much to allow them full reign and, according with how deeply he drew in air, finish the job he started. This Vanellope felt clear down to her marrow, avidly watching him suck in deep breath after deep breath only to finally hold, then release the last one in a mighty heave -melting into complete and total calm once the final note struck and silence filled the void.

Parting his lids, the virus swiveled his attention towards the open doors, bellowing none to pleasantly for his poor assistant. "Y-y-yes s-sire?"

"See to it this _thing_," an accusing finger jutted towards Vanellope, "stays on her best behavior. I don't want to hear a peep about any trouble stirred up, or so help me Sthour Bill I will lose it!"

"A-as you c-command, your magnificence."

The virus' piercing sights instantly spun back towards the woman, who nearly jumped when he addressed her, "This conversation isn't over."

"I-I know Turbo. B-but... uh... I didn't mean… I mean, I did but I'm sor-" He didn't wait for her to finish. In fact he barely waited for her to blurt out that much, seeming to charge on his spindly legs the moment her gums started to flap, leaving Vanellope to simply stand there shaking. She tried several times to force out her apology, pushing at the words so hard the burning sensation in her throat multiplied. But by the time she eventually threw it out, Turbo was already long gone, leaving her to simply watch the darkness he'd disappeared into, slapping her forehead over and over again at how stupid she actually was.

* * *

A/N: Oh my goodness, my biggest apologies for posting this so late! It wasn't my intention to go nearly 2 months without an update and to that I am very sorry for making everyone wait. The good news is that after this week is over, my job will no longer be running me into the ground on hard labor, so hopefully I'll have enough energy (and maybe more days off) to work on chapters. I'm also trying to enroll into college, so doing the paperwork and getting everything squared away before September hits has also been an uphill climb. Either way, I'm hoping to dedicate more time to this story and give it the proper love it deserves. Until then, do enjoy this 12 pager.

On a lighter note, I've found a beta reader, Hatashikitty, who has been kind enough to go over my past and future chapters. So once I correct them (this chapter included), I'll be posting them up ASAP, though nothing save a few grammatical errors will be corrected.

As to answer a few questions... I seem to be getting a lot concerning if Turbo will remain in his cybug form. Now that's a tricky one to answer. Just know for right now he will remain a larger than life cybrid for various reasons. All of which are both advantageous and detrimental(?) to him. Will Vanellope discover his reasoning? Yes, yes she will but not now. So if you were wanting him to shift through his forms throughout, the possibility is still way into the future whether or not he can or will.

There's also the question on why Vanellope didn't glitch out of Turbo's grasp during the times he held her. Well, to explain that I suppose it's because of that Broken Karted scene from the movie. I noticed she could pass through inanimate objects just fine (save the glitch-proof shackle), even being able to take Ralph and the car along with her through Diet Cola Mountain. So if we assume she can teleport objects and people, then regardless if she used her ability she would only accomplish in moving Turbo right along with her and still be stuck in his hand. It was never made clear in the film if she _could_ pass through sentient being's, since she didn't when Ralph held her during her temper fit, so as far as this story is concerned she cant. Perhaps there's a fear of leaving behind or accidentally capturing some of the other persons pixels that prevents her from trying. Either way, if someone has a hold of her "body", she wont break out of it with a simple glitch until she makes them let go.

There's also the question on why Turbo has seemed to pull a 180 concerning his attitude towards Vanellope. Just so you know those pet names are not said in adoration. Those things he's given her are not given out of charity or good will. Very little care is actually given to her emotional state because -as stated in this chapter- she is a THING to him, not a person. She is something he can show off, something he can play with on the side when the game's welfare isn't concerned. In fact, to frankly put it, she's nothing more than another trophy he can put up or take down when ever it pleases him.

And besides... let's not over look that she is now a full grown woman (assets included), who has suddenly been promoted to **_QUEENly_ **status.


End file.
